Forgotten Boys
by Quwinntessa Starber
Summary: ADULT!!! AU. Quatre Winner, is one of the few born with the Homo gene. To hide he becomes a Maguanac, fighting for Allah. Quatre's destiny will change the entire world. 3x4. RashidxAbdulexQuatre, RashidxAbdule, 5+1+2, 13+6,
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

"He's a disgrace! An abomination to Allah! I will have no part of him! You're men have taken in worse and made productive citizens out of them, I demand that you take Quatre as well!"

They were in the Great Hall, massive in its beautiful marble inlays, high vaulted ceilings, frescos, and ornate gold workings. A path of red sulfur oxidized marble acted as a red carpet that led to the end of the hall and a massive chair of gold, silver, and rubies. In the chair sat a man, in his early nineties. The man was feeble and old, and Raberba Winner, owner of the largest mining firm in outer space and the second richest man in all the universe, must not have seen the defiant strength of the man as he tried to bully his son into their care.

For the last hour, Raberba had been arguing his son's case to the leader of the Muslim Jihad army, the Maguanacs. This elite band of men, sworn to protect the Muslim faith and its people were at once mysterious and legendary. For thousands of years these men protected those that believed in Allah, and for thousands of years, Allah had in turn, remembered His people. They were only a hundred men strong, but rumored to house the best assassins, strategists, and thieves the world had ever seen. Over the last five years they had lost two of their numbers to illness and now, as dictated by New Islamic law, it was time for them to replace those who had gone on to the Great One.

Men of all stations brought their best sons forward. From all of the Islamic nations and colonies came the best and brightest. No boy over the age of 21 was allowable, so the anti-chamber was lined with thousands of children and teenagers—boys of all skin tones and breeding—all for the two coveted spots in the Maguanacs.

For most, it was a proud moment. Fathers would stand tall and proud, proclaiming loudly the attributes of their particular sons, but this was only to the other fathers in the anti-chamber, for no one was allowed into the Great Hall, except the father and the son.

Up the red marble carpet they'd travel, up, up, what seemed like miles as hearts raced and sweat beaded on brows. Then, when finally they reached their destination they were told simply, in a clear voice--"State your son's case."

Some would talk for hours, others only minutes. Over the years, it had become clear that there was no real pattern to the boys chosen to enter the Maguanacs. Some were tall while others were short, some fat and some skinny, some fathers had talked for hours, while others only seconds. No one knew how to please the Maguanacs's leader so fathers tried everything, and Quatre's father was no exception.

His father had forbidden him from speaking to anyone in the anti-chamber. A small boy of only fifteen years, Quatre was delicate, with pale skin that had seen neither true nor artificial sun in almost five years.

Science had long ago discovered the particular gene in the human construct that produced homosexuals and heterosexuals. Colonial tube babies that possessed the "Homo" gene were terminated; their tubes simply turned off to protect society.

But Quatre's mother had defied colonial mandates and had conceived Quatre in her own womb. Far from medical surveillance equipment that monitored for such things as the "Homo" gene, she'd protected her son within her body for as long as she could; until Quatre, two months premature, was born. Overwhelmed with his wife's death in childbirth, Raberba thought nothing of testing Quatre for the feared gene until he was older, some wayward comment by the boy causing him to wonder. After only ten seconds the gene was discovered and Quatre, then only five, was shut away from the world; shut away, to begin his "reprogramming."

At ten years old, Raberba had brought Quatre to the Great Hall, the "reprogramming" having done nothing to ease Raberba's fears about his son. But the leader of the Maguanacs had listened intently to Raberba Winner's twenty minute listing of his son's exaggerated strengths before kindly dismissing them. Quatre had not been chosen. The abuse Quatre suffered for that, was not unlike the abuse he was usually subjected too, only this was infinitely more painful. 

For five years his father had abandoned him to a remote colony devoid of all life. Twice a month rations were flown in, and on the same day food arrived for Quatre to consume, his father came to consume him. Hours of his father's hateful words pounded against him as Raberba ranted at how Quatre was ruining everything!

As the years progressed and Quatre grew more and more quiet and isolated, he began to yearn for the end. It seemed it was about to come.

Only a day before, Raberba had made an unscheduled arrival on Quatre's satellite. And once again Raberba had come and brought Quatre to this magnificent place of majesty and beauty. Deprived for so long of so much, Quatre had found himself simply staring at the wonders the hall held, instead of listening to his father's half veiled threats and monetary promises as they stood in the Great Hall, in audience to the Leader of the Maguanacs. But now, the eldest Winner was desperate, pulling forth the secret that was Quatre's great shame.

Quatre focused his attention on the floor by his feet, long since used to his father's hateful words. He didn't look up, otherwise he would have seen his father oblivious to everyone; and seen the Maguanac leader's eyes furrow slightly in rage.

"Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed to bring him here?! I've told everyone he's away studying to take my place as head of the company, but I'll die and take my company with me before I hand it over to this worthless piece of meat!

"The world has seen Quatre now, and if you don't take him, I'll simply have to take him back and…dispose of him properly." The threat could never have been considered veiled, and the old man on the ornate chair was perceptive indeed.

"So," the old man spoke for the first time since admitting them. "He possessed the gene of One." It was a statement, but Raberba answered anyway.

"If you mean the "Homo" gene, then to my own disgrace he does."

Hearing a guttural sound, Quatre looked up from his newly tailored and unbroken in shoes, to see a man of about twenty-five years come to stand behind the throne like chair of the leader. Tall and thin he wore a strange hat on his head and a pair of dark mirror sunglasses. Knowing little about human behavior—and disregarding his natural but hidden empathic talents—Quatre assumed the man was guarding the leader from the disturbance his father was creating. He remembered his sisters had not liked it when his father had yelled, telling their father to take his worthless son into the other room if he meant to make such a racket. Quatre never questioned, that while his sisters hated him for his genetic defect, he couldn't help but love them still.

"Quatre?" Startled, the boy looked up and into the eyes of the leader. They were old eyes but spoke of many things, most of which Quatre couldn't begin to understand.

Seclusion and his father's painful counter to anything he said, had taught Quatre to hold his tongue, in fact, he spoke less often than he dreamed.

He nodded his head.

"The Leader is talking to you, boy! Answer him!" His father shouted, grabbing him by the back of his well tailored and new suit, shaking him. Quatre said nothing, experience had taught him to fear voices, words of condemnation, even his own. "Damnit, boy!"

"Quatre?" The old man spoke again, and again Quatre nodded, not looking up. "Quatre, would you like to join the Maguanacs, to protect the people of Islam, and honor the Great One?"

Quatre again said nothing and again incurred his father's wrath.

Strong hands yanked him around until he was face to face with the hate filled gaze of his father's eyes. "Tell. Him Yes." There was a deadly calm to his voice, and Quatre knew, knew without a doubt, that should he not be accepted into the ranks of the Maguanacs, he would not have much longer to live.

And that was all he really wanted anyway.

Turning his head away from his father, turning to look back at the old man, and the young one who was now at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the chair, only five feet away, Quatre spoke.

"No. I just want to die."

He heard the ragging cry from his father only seconds before the fist connected with his beautiful if not hollow face. The force pushed him back and away, towards the leader of the Maguanacs. He didn't bother to brace himself for the impact with the marble floor, if he hit, perhaps it would finally be over.

But to his surprise, strong arms caught him mid-flight, and in a sound of thunderous footsteps, the doors behind the great chair were thrown open and ninety-seven men in various sizes, shapes and colors came flooding into the room. Dully he saw his father shrink away in fear, but for the most part, he watched the line where the red marble met the white, watched as hundreds of feet fell across it, listened as pistols and riffles cocked. He assumed they were pointed at him, if he'd been in any position to look, he would have seen them pointed at his father.

"Rashid." Again the old man's voice, and this time Quatre did look up, and up, and up, but not into the face of the leader, but the face of a gigantic man of nearly seven feet. The juggernaut stepped towards his leader and accepted a cloth bag before following the leader's instructions. "Give Mr. Winner these forty pieces of silver and send him away. He no longer has a son, and we no longer have any vacancies in the ranks. Send the others away."

Quatre watched helplessly as the giant man threw the bag of silver at his father before roughly shoving him towards the door, following after him to shove Raberba through and to deliver the message to those not chosen.

Silent in the way circumstance had taught him, Quatre watched as the men around him began to look at him, pity and something more in their eyes. Behind him the man holding him up tried to right him.

"Hey, it's alright. Try to get you're footing, that's right. He sure clocked you good, I think a couple of us would have actually gone down after a blow like that." That could hardly be true. At fifteen Quatre was barely a hundred pounds, and hardly five feet, if any would have fallen, it would have been him.

He got his feet under him in time to witness the giant return to the fold. His face was hard and cold, steel in his eye as his gaze locked with Quatre's for the split second before Quatre ducked and turned away.

He wanted to know why? Why him? Those in the hall had been so much more qualified, so much braver and stronger. He was nothing, he was worthless, he was an abomination, he was an evil child.

"Quatre." Again the old man was speaking to him, and out of fear and terror, Quatre turned to look at the man. "Abandon all that you knew before this moment, it was all lies. We will teach you the truth, the way. Forget all that you've been told, Allah will set you free."

Silence reigned then, and Quatre felt it like a pressure around his heart. He'd always had his abilities, and though he couldn't remember it well, he still caught glimpses of his mother's emotions as she'd died bringing him into the world. But he'd been without human contact for so long, living contact at all, that he could not decipher the feelings that swirled around his heart. If he could have, he would have felt rage and death towards his father.

Not knowing what else to do, Quatre nodded his head and refused to look anywhere but his aching feet. The Maguanac that had caught him still stood close by, and Quatre felt terrifyingly crowded in by his presence.

He heard the old man shift in his chair of red velvet and gold, heard him sit up straight and tall to address his subordinates.

"The boy has been chosen, who will be his Teacher?" A murmur went up amongst the people and Quatre heard a few voices call out that they would before the man behind him—the one who had caught him before his fall—spoke in a cheery but final tone.

"Rashid will take him as Recruit." Another murmur, this one more questioning than the one before it.

"Rashid," and now Quatre looked up and again saw the mighty man before him look towards the leader. "Will you take the boy as Recruit?"

There was a pause, and in that second of time Quatre's heart cheered. Finally, it'd be over. No one wanted an evil child, none would take him, and then he'd be sent back out, back to his father. And his father would make good on his promise, and Quatre would disappear, silently forgotten in time and space.

"Yes, Master Habsaba, I will take the boy as Recruit." The voice was large, filling the room, but soft at the same time; and once again Quatre had to look at the man whom he now feared and in some ways, hated.

"And Abdule?" The question was directed to Rashid.

"It would seem, he has accepted the circumstances."

Again his name was spoken, and again Quatre turned to the old man. "From this moment on, there are no surnames. You will be known throughout history as Quatre, nothing more and nothing less. Do you understand?"

Perplexed and stunned, Quatre looked up into old and withered eyes. Could he say yes? What would he really be giving up? When was the last time he was considered a Winner anyway? But it was his last ties to his family, the ones he still loved despite their lack of care for him. Quietly, he shook his head, 'no.'

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder, and it startled him to gasp out loud. He tried to step back, but when he did, he ran into the man—Abdule. He followed the beefy hand to attach it to Rashid, the older man was smiling down at him ever so slightly.

"Do not be afraid. You will lose nothing with the lose of the name, I give you my word."

Awed by his presence so close to him, Quatre stared at him a moment before catching himself, and ducking his head before nodding his consent. What was in a name anyway?

Habsaba spoke. "Our family is complete. Close the gates." He stood then and Quatre saw that when he had been young Habsaba must have been very tall indeed. "Quatre of the Maguanacs, Trowa of the Maguanacs, welcome to your destiny."

Feeling sick, Quatre closed his eyes against the disappointment of his still beating heart.

"Do not fret, Quatre. Nothing you have known before has much bearing on the world you now belong to." The leader said as he slowly walked down the stairs, one of the men helping him at the end. "You have many talents and gifts that are unknown to you and the rest, and I fear that Rashid has excepted quite a formidable Recruit." There was gentleness in Habsaba's words and tones, but having so little human contact, Quatre had no basis with which to compare the kind man's statements.

Fear clouded his thoughts, as once again all he could think about was that he was nothing but a problem to someone. His head remained downcast, and he tried as hard as he could to make himself as small as his already emaciated body would allow.

His thoughts were racing, had been racing since he'd been taken off the satellite he called prison and brought to this region of space. The Maguanac colony was separated from the others in L-4, and small in comparison; but for only a hundred men, the colony built for ten thousand was a lavish expanse of territory and room.

But he had no defenses against the onslaught of feelings he'd encountered as his father had brought the shuttle down onto this place. Even now, surrounded by feelings he couldn't comprehend, he felt overwhelmed to the point of passing out. He closed his eyes against the rolling of the ground beneath him, as ninety-nine men turned their attentions and their emotions on him.

Things were happening so fast, threatening to overturn the isolated world that was all Quatre had known for so long. Just the sounds of voices around him threatened to make him think himself mad with delirium instead of safe with people who would protect him.

The floor lurched again as he heard his name spoken from a distance, and with no defenses against the rolling terrain, he felt his precarious balance lost as his knees buckled beneath him.

He heard his name in a slight panic before he again felt the same arms as before wrap about him in support. But different this time, the man called Abdule's hand brushed against his own, and with it came a tidal wave of emotions he couldn't hope to stop.

Skin on skin, a touch, something Quatre was denied unless it was for punishment. He'd learned to hate it, to fear touch almost as much as voice and sound. When his father touched him, it was with such anger and rage, that it was worse than the physical blows themselves. But this, as Arabian skin touched Arabian skin, Quatre felt his world shift at the emotions exposed.

Fear.

Worry.

Possession.

With a strangled sob and all the energy he could support, Quatre flung his body away once again from this man. Bangs pushed out of the way by the force of his movements, Quatre spun around to face the man he felt with all he was, he needed to defend himself against.

Wild blue eyes, the color of moonlight through Topaz stones, were wide and terrified as he spun to watch his enemy face-first. But his stand was not aggressive. He stood with hands about his upper arms, locking himself in tightly, praying that no one could get through the shields he'd been forced to create.

Abdule himself was quite taken aback by the look of terror in the boy's eyes. Retracing his steps, he couldn't figure out why his actions had been any different then the first time Quatre had almost fallen. Almost fallen—more like been beaten down! Hatred flared in him towards the man that had brought this boy in, demanding he be accepted to lessen his own burden. He was grateful for the sunglasses he perpetually wore, as they blocked Quatre from seeing the hate in his eyes as he thought of the boy's father.

But Quatre's talents were undeveloped, and as he stared at Abdule, all he could feel was the unabashed hatred as the man looked at him. Shuddering against the onslaught of more emotions, he again nearly buckled but caught himself at the last moment before hitting the ground.

He was scared, tired, hurt and in such despair he could barley see. Abandoned yet again, this time to warriors who were known to follow the Qur'an to the letter. His father had told them about his gene, they knew he was destined to be an abomination. His father was no Muslim leader, but these men followed the strict codes of Mohammed's teachings and Allah's words. The "reprogramming" his father had put him through for five years had been some of the most painful times of his life. Tortures no boy needed to know, were placed upon him, only to be told later he was incurable. He'd tried to convince his father he was no danger, but the man hadn't listened, and Quatre had been sent away, away to be alone forever.

Or not forever. And these men, men of size and strength far outweighing that of his "reprogrammer," Quatre feared the hatred rolling off the man before him was only the beginning of a life's worth of hard and torturous years to come.

"No, no, no, hush child. Be calm. Rashid…" Habsaba was speaking gently behind Quatre, but Quatre was used to kind words with double meanings. He spun again to guard himself against the older man only to find two great arms wrapped tightly around him as Rashid moved to restrain the boy from hurting himself.

Thankfully there was no skin on skin contact to strengthen the emotions, but being this close, feeling trapped and restrained, Quatre again panicked. He threw everything that he was into his struggles, fighting for all that he was or could be. Thin skin and brittle bones pushed against pillars of strength to be released, as his voice—long unused—spoke for only the second time that month.

"Let go!"

Habsaba's voice rose over his own, and the others as they watched the struggling youth.

"School you're thoughts, Rashid! He is an empath!"

His mind screamed at the declaration! Empaths were hunted down and killed for the amusement of the colonies. Illegal but ignored, newscasters ran vids of beaten to death empaths who were unlucky enough to be discovered. Considered cheats and unethical thieves, empaths were thought to steal emotions from those around them, or to get whatever they wanted by reading the emotions of those they encountered. In the one room shack he'd been given to live in for the last five years, Quatre had sought out the vids, absorbing the truths of mankind, even if he couldn't be there himself to feel them.

But all these men, legends able to rip him apart for the sanctity of Allah's people, they'd kill him! Torture him until there was even less of him then there was now!

His struggles continued as did his begging and half-broken sobs to be released.

He heard the baritone and soothing voice of the giant man over his left ear as Rashid bent over to softly speak to him. "Calm down, Quatre. You are safe here. No one will hurt you. You are safe here. I give you my word, no one will hurt you."

But Quatre didn't know this man, or the value of his word, and so he struggled, tiring out quickly as he had little energy to burn as it was, but still fighting as much as he could.

Then suddenly, Rashid shifted, holding Quatre with one arm instead of two. The boy had a split second to think clearly before a beefy hand closed lightly against his injured cheek. At the contact, his world fell away once again.

Instantly his struggles ceased, but a horrible trembling gripped his limbs so that Rashid had to literally hold the boy up. But Quatre knew none of this, instead he was surrounded by feelings that rushed up like a gentle tide only to recede for his contemplation before returning to lap softly against his consciousness.

On the outside, his eyes were wide in a mixture of fascination and halted panic. His chest heaved as he drew in deep sporadic breaths that were slowly becoming more and more even and regular. Inside, Quatre felt the gentle presence of the man supporting him.

Rashid's emotions were organized and concise. He felt the worry the large man had for him, the concern directed towards his small frame and emaciated appearance. The giant's sense of duty came next, to protect his comrades from the strange and frightened boy before them. Rashid sensed strength in Quatre, strength and something more… Then there was the duty that centered around protecting Quatre from himself. Such a profound emotion, and Quatre felt the acceptance and desire to protect this fragile boy that was himself.

With a whimper, he dropped his head as the emotions coming from Rashid slowly drifted away from his consciousness. He'd been frightened by the feelings that had come over him, but so immensely intrigued and grateful for those directed towards him that did not involve hate. There was no hate in Rashid towards him, and Quatre felt relief wash over him at the realization.

Quatre's knees again slipped as he tried to straighten his legs, but Rashid supported him before lifting him up against a solid and broad chest. Exhausted from his struggles, and still frightened beyond his remembrance of ever being frightened, Quatre bowed his head into the warm chest and simply lay there, spent and fearful.

A new voice spoke, and it took Quatre's tired mind a moment to realize the question was directed towards Habsaba.

"The boy is a empath you say? But that can only mean one thing—"

Habsaba's voice was light and he brushed the question aside. "Now is not the time. Quatre is weak from his past life, and his current fears of us. He harbors teachings of his old life he has not yet removed from his thoughts.

"Rashid, take your Recruit inside. The boy is exhausted and needs caring for. That man did the boy no favors, and it will take all of your skills to calm him enough so that he may learn not to be afraid. His incorrect knowledge is vast and painfully ingrained, he is a wounded animal as much as a broken child. As your Recruit, you must heal him before anything else can begin. Do you understand?"

Quatre felt the muscles in the man's chest tighten against his cheek before he heard the deep rumbling as he spoke.

"The boy is my responsibility. I will not fail him, Master Habsaba."

In the minutes that followed, Quatre closed his eyes against the fast moving images as Rashid carried him through the Great Hall and the door behind the throne like chair. The space behind was dark, lit by flame instead of energy efficient, colony issued bulbs. The man's size made his stride long and quick, and Quatre shut his mind down rather than absorb the blurry images in front of his eyes; he simply no longer had the strength.

A soft hand brushed his white blond bangs from his face and he looked once again into a pair of sunglasses that seemed to be hopping just to keep up with the gait of the taller man.

"Don't worry, Quatre. Rest now, everything's going to ok. We'll get you warmed up, stop the shivers, and give you a chance to breathe a little before we explain things further. Try not to worry, everything you knew before has no bearings in this place. We'll take care of you, won't we Rashid?"

Above him, the man nodded but when he noticed that Quatre wasn't looking at him, he replied with voice.

"Yes. Abdule is correct young Quatre. You are safe. Now try to rest, the walk is long back to the camps. Sleep if you can. I will watch over you."

There was surety in the tone, a promise of being safe when they arrived, and Quatre felt it with every desperate part of himself. Too exhausted to block or analyze anything more, he surrendered to Rashid's quietly spoken words and the light airy touch of his hair across his forehead as Abdule barely touched the coarse strands.

He slept the rest of the way.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

At the campsite, Wufei met them half way. 

The camp was an open commons area, enclosed by a glass ceiling against the elements of the environmental controls, it resembled a cross between a harem floor with it's coverings in silk pillows of different shades, colors, and sizes, and a desert oasis with it's internal fountains and liberal vegetation. All around them, dozens of men watched as they brought in the curious bundle of Quatre, the newest Maguanac.

"I saw the boy in the Hall, bring him over here, I need to look at him." There was no room for argument as the twenty-year-old doctor motioned the much older man and his companion towards a stack of satin pillows in the commons area.

Carefully, Rashid laid his precious bundle down against the pillows, brushing back light bangs to reveal a drawn and hollow face.

Quatre had been silent as he and Abdule had carried the small thing back to camp. The child weighted hardly a thing, and Rashid would have forgotten he was carrying the child if not for his importance and Abdule's constant worrying over the wounded boy.

Finally, when Abdule had stepped in front of him to once again check on Quatre, causing him to nearly stumble, he'd had enough.

"Abdule, stand aside or I will go through you next time. Quatre needs rest now, not constantly being moved around so I can avoid running into you!"

"I-I'm just worried about him. He's so small, but I heard his father say he was nearly sixteen. Does he look sixteen to you? He looks more like thirteen or fourteen. He's so…delicate…"

Rashid instantly softened as he looked at the long face hidden by a pair of sunglasses. "He is now, but wait. He needs rest, food, and love, and in that order. We must take care of his basic needs so that we can work on the rest. That is what Master Habsaba meant."

Absently, Abdule nodded, and while he remained walking briskly to match Rashid's pace, he kept a single hand on Quatre's bent knee.

There were things he needed to talk to Abdule about, but now was not the time. First to settle Quatre into his new life, second to reassure and question Abdule.

As he watched, the slight Chinese man began to arrange Quatre across the pillows. Wufei's voice was cool as he spoke, but there was an underlying and immediate acceptance of the small blond boy; he was after all, family.

"He's too thin, sickly. I'd even go so far as to say malnourished and starving. I doubt he's had a nutritious meal in the last six months. His bones are brittle, I can hear them in their sockets when I move his arms. He's also pale, too pale, probably deficient in all sorts of vitamins, including B, which needs sunlight. I doubt he's seen sunlight in a very long time. Look at his hair, it's almost as brittle as is bones, a bad sign. He's sickly, and if Habsaba is correct, and he's an empath…there's probably more wrong with him than just this." Wufei swept his hand across Quatre's prone form.

"What can you do, Wufei?" Rashid's voice was tight. It pained him to hear of another human being treated as Quatre must have been.

"He'll need to be placed on a special diet. Protein, he'll need lots of it. Carbohydrates for energy, and fats for the empty stores in his body. He needs special combinations of vegetables for the vitamins he's missing, and I won't know what those are until I get a chance to run blood tests. I assume you want him settled in more before I set to figuring out what's really wrong with him." Rashid gave a hesitant nod. "Then I'll make arrangements to see him in a few days. Until then, I'll have some nutritious shakes sent to your quarters for him to consume. I can't be certain with this suit on how much he'll…forget it! Let's get this ridiculous outfit off of him so I can see what he really looks like!"

At Rashid's nod, Wufei and Abdule set about removing the little blonde's shoes and jacket.

Wufei hissed his name after removing Quatre's socks.

"What is wrong?" Worry laced through him, as Abdule too turned to watch as Wufei gently twisted Quatre's foot into the light.

"Blisters, and bad. I doubt those shoes were his size let alone stretched as they should have been. Also, his feet are raw in the center, flat feet. I'll need to talk to him, but I have a feeling he's been walking across satellite rhubarb on bare feet for some time."

Abdule winced visibly, and Rashid reached a hand across Quatre's chest to drop a light squeeze onto Abdule's shoulder.

Turning, Rashid again addressed the doctor. "Can you give him something for the pain?"

Wufei nodded. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and gave a whoop and a call. "Duo! Get your ass over here!"

Rashid hid his smile better than Abdule as a boy only a little older than Quatre came bounding up, obviously curious about the new recruit. Standing only a little taller than Wufei's five feet, five inches, Duo was a bundle of energy that didn't seem to want to quite. His violet eyes scanned Quatre's outstretched form, and a sad smile drifted across his features as he instinctively made a grab for the three foot long braid that hung in a beautiful knot of warm chestnut brown and gold down his back.

"Well, at least he's safe now." Said the lively American as he knelt beside Quatre's waist and smiled once to Abdule before turning to Wufei. "You bellowed?"

Scoffing, Wufei indicated Quatre's feet, and when Duo looked he visibly winced. Wufei's voice broke no argument. "In the infirmary is the cabinet with all the medications in it. On the first row, second shelf, you'll see a blue bottle, and on the third row, forth shelf, you'll see a green bottle with yellow lettering. Bring me both bottles."

Nodding, Duo stood and turned to go before remembering something and turning back. He faced Rashid and grinned. "Heero saw what Quatre was dressed in and figured he'd be more comfortable in something a little looser, he went to grab something of his, they're about the same size." Duo laughed. "Well, actually, Heero's probably smaller."

Wufei's voice was clipped. "Baka! Heero hasn't been this small since he was recruited, and you'd better not let him hear you say he's small, he might have to prove you wrong." There was a knowing undertone in Wufei's voice, and Duo nearly blanched.

"Geesh, I was only kidding! You wouldn't tell on a guy, now would you, Wufei?"

"That depends."

"Oh what?"

"On whether you move your ass and go get what I told you to!"

Duo stuck his tongue out as he turned to run for the infirmary.

Abdule smiled teasingly at Wufei. "Problems?"

Snorting Wufei answered. "Not in the least. He's simply being a pain in the ass. I suggested male PMS as a joke, and he's been playing it up ever since."

Smiling Abdule sighed. "Ah, to be young again."

Rashid rolled his eyes heaven ward. "You're only twenty-seven, that's hardly an old man."

Abdule smiled wider, happy that Rashid had taken the bait, as he knew he would. "That's true, not old like some people we know."

Rashid growled. "Watch it Abdule."

Peeking over the rims of his sunglasses, Abdule smiled wickedly. "And if I don't."

Rashid didn't get a chance to answer as another young man stepped up to gracefully kneel down next to Quatre's body.

The first thing anyone noticed about Heero was the air about him, it was always stiff. Nothing anyone ever did could change that. The second was that he was Japanese. Every feature and angle of the boy's beautiful face and body was Japanese. Spiky black hair hung in a disheveled mess that somehow looked appropriate on Heero, while dark cobalt eyes seemed to be lit by an internal fire on constant smolder. The young man wasn't overly tall, being slightly smaller than Wufei, but what he didn't have in height, he made up for in power of presence. There were jokes around the camp that Heero might one-day even command more attention than Rashid himself. Rashid had always smiled at that thought, he liked Heero, the boy was a true soldier.

Delicate and yet powerful hands passed a pair of white pants and a vest to Rashid. "They were too small about a year ago, so they should fit him, though they'll probably be a little big." He paused. "How's he doing?"

Emotions had come hard for Heero, the boy had been forced to endure a life without them for so long he'd learned to cope. It had taken two very special individuals to teach him the ones he had now.

Wufei's eyes softened a little. "He's very ill. In body as much as spirit. His feet are in bad shape, and he's deficient in almost everything from what I can tell."

Nodding once, Heero turned to examine the slight boy. "He…he reminds me of myself."

Setting Quatre's foot down, Wufei brushed his hand against Heero's arm. "Perhaps, but with Rashid as his Teacher, and Abdule also taking care of him, he'll be alright, just as you were."

Heero shook himself out of his memories before nodding once to Wufei and standing. "You'll want to finish with Quatre as soon as you can. Trowa is also in need of a looking at. He's not much heavier than Quatre, and I heard a few others talking about track marks on his arms."

"Drugs?"

Heero shrugged. "Haven't seen them, so I don't know. He's quiet though, withdrawn. He could be coming off a high, though I doubt those people that brought him would have allowed him to get high before entering the Great Hall."

Wufei nodded. "I'll be there as soon as Duo gets back. Why not wait for me with Trowa?" Heero nodded his agreement, and with a parting nod to Rashid and Abdule, the young man moved away from them towards the other side of the camp.

Rashid cleared his throat. "Wufei, if you are needed, then I believe Quatre will be fine until you return. I to saw Trowa as he was brought in from the Great Hall, Heero's right, he seems…not all there." Concern again laced its way through Rashid's voice.

"I saw him as well. I prefer to wait until Duo arrives."

Rashid nodded as Abdule perked up. "Rashid, what is it they say? The bigger the man, the bigger his heart."

If Rashid had not been used to Abdule's sudden romantic catch phrases he would have blushed, in their earlier years, he had. Now he smiled affectionately at the younger man as he looked down at the new one in his life.

Abdule had been called into the Great Hall when Quatre's father had become loud enough to hear through the gold encrusted doors separating the Great Hall and the inner sanctum of the Maguanac's colony.

Having just a few hours before acquired Trowa into their fold, they'd all expected a few days before another suitable candidate was located, and Rashid had thanked Allah again that he was not their leader.

But at the enraged roar from Quatre's father, the entire army had immediately rushed the door to protect their leader and Abdule—one of their own. The sight before them had not been one Rashid had expected, or was likely to ever forget.

Kind and loving Abdule clutched a barely conscious boy in his arms, while glaring deathly at the man in front of him. Habsaba had barked an order in Arabic, and the men had surrounded the businessman, protecting the boy instead of their leader.

When Habsaba had called him forward and handed him the customary bag of silver, Rashid had been stunned, he hadn't expected the slip of a boy to be chosen, let alone so quickly after the first. But he'd followed Habsaba's orders and issued the decree that the choices had been made and that the gates would be sealed for another five years.

Upon his return, his anger towards the boy's father had only increased as he'd watched Quatre struggle in Abdule's grip to stand on his own. But when those frightened and confused eyes had bore into his own, Rashid had known immediately he would take this boy as recruit.

He had reservations, as he knew the others would as well. Abdule was still in his final year as Recruit after all, and it was unheard of to take on two Recruits at the same time, there weren't enough hours in a day to devote enough time and energy to them both. But in the final year of one a new Recruit was acceptable, and so Rashid had already settled his mind around the idea when he'd heard Abdule's voice accept the boy for him.

To say the least, he'd been stunned. Recruits did not often volunteer their Teachers as Abdule had done, in fact, in all rights Abdule should not have wanted Rashid to take this second Recruit. But Rashid had a guess that Abdule saw something in the boy that struck a little close to home. Something told him, Abdule wanted the boy to be well taken care of, which meant Rashid would be his Teacher.

Of course, it helped that Abdule would also be his Teacher, in one way or another.

When he'd accepted Quatre as his Recruit, there had been a look of such abandoned awe in the boy's face. He'd been frightened, but also angry, and Rashid was himself a little worried over why the boy would feel anger at being accepted, he feared it would be much like Abdule's had been over ten years before.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Abdule's charismatic voice and smile broke the memories he was reflecting on and he smiled back at his first Recruit.

"When do you ever have any money?"

Abdule balked at that. "I'd have money if I didn't spend it on you all the time! You and your expensive tastes in, well, everything!"

Rashid chuckled. "I was reflecting on the boy and what I know about him so far. I do not like what I know very much."

Sadly, Abdule agreed. "I heard his father talking about him. You should have been there Rashid, you would have pounded the guy into the marble for some of the things he said. And the poor thing, he just stood there and took it, just standing there. When his father grabbed him the first time, I was at the bottom of the stairs before Habsaba managed to get me to stop. He was just cruel, Rad, cruel and…evil. Maybe that's the word I'm looking for, evil. He gave me the creeps, and it's hard to believe that this gentle looking boy came from that man's loins."

Absorbing all that was said, Rashid moved to speak when he was again interrupted, this time by Duo's return.

"Here, I got lost in the third shelf, sixth row, or was it forth shelf third row? Oh well, I got the stuff. Did Heero come by with the clothes?"

Rashid nodded as Wufei took the medicines and began to count out the pills. "Yes. Please thank him again for the clothing. He was correct in that I did not anticipate taking on a new Recruit this day, but it seems Allah wished it."

Duo smirked. "Yeah, that or Abdule thought he had a cute butt."

Swinging his arm Abdule knocked the back of Duo's head soundly. "Owww!"

"Don't say such stupid things! I made Rashid take him in so I could cook for him, the poor thing needs a decent meal and a warm place to sleep."

"Yeah, and how convenient he'll have two bodies to snuggle against." The American's eyebrows shot up and down, and even Abdule had to look away from that suggestive look.

But Wufei had finished and rose, pulling Duo up by his braid. "You've said enough for one night! Go wait with Heero, he's sitting with Trowa." There was the barest hint of a command in Wufei's voice, and Duo smiled once to them and then ran off in the direction Heero had gone earlier.

Abdule's voice resonated with jest. "Does he fetch too?"

Wufei smiled. "Probably better than you do." Abdule had the decency to blush. Turing, Wufei handed the pills to Rashid's opened hand. "The green ones are for the infection, the yellow for the pain. Give him one green three times a day, except for tonight when it will be two. Give him two yellow ones every four hours, but watch him, if he starts asking for the pills early drop the dose down to one every four hours. They're highly addictive and I don't want to have to detox him along with everything else. If he feels pain between the pills, give him something in your cabinet."

Rashid nodded and thanked Wufei before bidding him goodnight.

Abdule was already working on the buttons on Quatre's too tight shirt. "It looks tailored, but it doesn't fit right. Like his father bought it for the wrong size or the wrong person."

Rashid looked at the strained and then extremely loose seams as he lifted Quatre so Abdule could get the boy's arms out of the sleeves. "It is strange. We can ask him about it later if you like."

Abdule shook his head. "It'll probably embarrass him. It's not important anyway, we'll get him clothes that fit, including shoes! I can't believe his feet, I wanted to be sick when Wufei showed them to me."

"I felt the same way. He has not been taken care of, and while I do not know the extent to which that is fact, I intend to find out."

To many it would have seemed strange to be undressing a boy in the open commons area of the Maguanc camp. People milled about in small and large groups, while most were openly staring at the pair as they shifted the boy from one outfit to the other, curious about their newest recruit. But it was all par for the course here, the rules were different, and Rashid both looked forward to and dreaded explaining the differences to the boy he now held in his arms.

When Quatre was finally dressed in cool, white Arabian pants, and an open purple vest, Rashid managed to get Quatre to swallow the four pills he needed without the boy waking up. The young one had mumbled in his sleep, but was simply too exhausted to awaken.

As he moved to carry the precious bundle back towards his private quarters, they were met by Habsaba. The wise leader was obviously waiting to speak with him.

"Master Habsaba?"

The old man smiled kindly as he moved forward to brush his age-gnarled hand against one hollow porcelain cheek.

"He is very special, Rashid. But the boy is damaged and carries with him a solid foundation of lies and half-truths. He's an odd mixture of logic and emotion and you'll need to cater to both of those aspects of him to deliver your message in a way he'll understand.

"Both of the new recruits will be important to the future of the Maguancs. Both have skills we do not yet completely understand and both will surprise us when the time comes."

Rashid could not hold back his curiosity, though it was only because it had to do with the frail boy in his arms that he spoke out about it. "Master, have you had a vision?"

The old man cocked his head to the side as he considered the question. "More like…many, only broken up into fragments. When I saw Trowa today, I knew a part of the things I'd been seeing for many years was about to come to pass, but I was surprised to be met with this boy as soon as I did. I have seen Trowa, standing tall behind this one. They have things to do in this lifetime, very important things." The old man muttered on for a moment before turning back to the frail boy.

"He's delicate Rashid, and will require twice the skill as Abdule before him. But you learned what needed to be done, and Abdule has trained well." Rashid smiled kindly, Abdule deserved all the credit, but it was nice to watch the younger man in shock at the compliment. Then Master Habsaba was continuing. "Quatre will open up to you if given room to, until then, I understood from the man that brought him," Rashid noted that Habsaba no longer called him Quatre's father. "That Quatre has been alone for a very long time. I cannot say how long, but from what I saw, heard, and felt earlier, I'd say he reacted today mostly out of fear of the people around him. I sense isolation in him, and though he's an empath, his skills seemed to be directed more towards shielding than anything else.

"As is customary, you have a week to prepare Quatre and establish you're place with him. Tread lightly, I fear the boy might break if bent without much care."

Rashid bowed as much as he could with the precious bundle in his arms. "Master, I will do all that I can for the child, and will draw from my experience as much as I dare. I will find a way to make him realize he is not in danger any longer."

Habsaba nodded again and again with his approval. Then in a sudden twist he looked over at Abdule. "And you, Abdule, how do you truly expect to handle this delicate and unusual situation?"

Abdule smiled a cheeky smile. "Have some faith in me, Master! I haven't worked all the details out yet, but we'll make it work." His voice and face sobered then. "We have to, for Quatre's sake. He's been through enough."

A strong hand moved to Abdule's cheek, and the young man smiled into the kind and fatherly gesture of his Master. "If you need to speak, and cannot got to Rashid, I will listen. There are some things that not even a Teacher can know about their Recruit." At Abdule's thankful nod, he smiled to them both. "Then go. Rest with the boy. The more you are with him, the more comfortable he will become, though he'll probably resent and fear the contact at first. Rest well, and may Allah keep and protect our new family."

"Praise be upon Him." The two said in unison.

They were silent as they traveled the halls to Rashid's private quarters. At the door, Abdule smiled. "You know, it's really nice having a Teacher so high in the ranks, it means Quatre's going to have some privacy since he won't have to sleep in the main camp."

Rashid grumbled kindly. "If I remember correctly, you used to complain about my affinity to my private quarters."

Laughing, Abdule punched in the access code and stepped back for Rashid to enter first. "Well, that's because I was coming to realize real quick that my Teacher didn't like to share all that well with others. Imagine that, a general that doesn't like to share?"

"I was willing to share, you just did not like the ultimatum."

"What? Sleep here or sleep there, one or the other, no going back?" There wasn't bitterness in his voice, just an old lingering hardness about the subject.

Rashid heard it. He turned to regard the young man. "Perhaps you are right, I do not share well with others."

Abdule ducked his head for a moment before looking back up at his Teacher, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes from sight. "And now, with Quatre? What now?" The implications were clear and Rashid's heart ached to hear them.

With quick steps he crossed the open room to stand in front of his long time Recruit. Pushing his arms a little farther from his body, Quatre was forced by gravity to roll gently onto his back, exposing his small frame to Abdule's questioning eyes.

"If Habsaba thinks there is something special in the boy then I do as well. To that end I will do everything in my power to teach him well, and to find a way to get through to him. I am in a delicate position now, one the both of us have placed me in. I must split my time between the two of you, and you know I hate the thought of that. I fear, that because Quatre is so young and new to all of this, I will somehow overlook something with you and that you will have to take Habsaba up on his offer to talk.

"But this is what I know. The boy is damaged, maybe beyond complete repair, and it will take more than I have to truly help him. You are one year away from ending your time as a Recruit, and you know all I have to teach you, Abdule. I ask your help now in teaching this young one. I will still be his Teacher, and you will have to learn to let me be that with him, but our time together is not yet finished, and…I may not share well with others, but I have and will share well with you."

The smile that broke over Abdule's face then dispelled the final clouds of doubt Rashid had harbored about his second Recruit. In one of the few gestures meant only for his eyes, Abdule removed his sunglasses and gazed up at his Teacher.

"I will learn to keep my mouth shut when you're playing the part of Teacher, but you have to promise to listen to some advice every now and then."

Rashid sighed but nodded.

"Good. Otherwise I was going to have to strap you to the bed and—"

His words were cut off as Rashid lowered his mouth to take offensive lips with his own. The kiss worked to ease them both of their last remaining reservations, and when Abdule's hand circled around to rub his back lightly, Rashid knew they'd find a way to make their new littler family work.

When the kiss ended, Abdule coyly looked at him. "It's going to be a while until you can do that with Quatre. Promise you won't forget me while you're working with him."

"I swear it to you on the love I have for Allah and His people. Quatre is a part of our family now, not all of it. Besides I could never forget you, I'll be hearing your voice when I'm dead!"

"Rashid!"

"Shhhh, you will awake him."

Together they looked down at the boy resting in a drug induced silence.

"Rad, maybe we should put him to bed. I'll fix something quick to eat while you settle in. I'll bring it when it's done."

Nodding, Rashid moved away but not before kissing his lover and Recruit one last time. "Do not make anything crazy, just throw it together and get in here. Habsaba had a point, as an empath, Quatre will need to become comfortable with both of our emotional states if he is to accept us. While he sleeps seems the best time to acquaint his mind with our signatures."

"It frightens me how you know so much about empaths and their workings." Rashid was quiet towards the comment for a moment before shaking himself slightly and moving into the bedroom.

"It was a long time ago. Hurry."

"I will."

Softly, the door closed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Quatre awoke to the strangest sensation, warmth. On the satellite, it was so rare for him to feel warm, in fact it happened for only two weeks out of the satellites yearly rotation cycle. He cherished those moments when the constant ice of cold metal did not invade his morning senses. But he felt groggy now, and as he snuggled more deeply into the warmth around him he didn't even notice as his warm pillow gave a sigh of contentment.

Rashid smiled down lovingly at the small slip of a boy in his arms. Abdule was curled around the opposite side of Quatre, and together they cocooned the boy's fragile body in warmth.

A light sleeper, Abdule awoke at Quatre's movements and gazed down at the boy a moment before catching Rashid's open eyes and smiling.

In a whispered tone, he spoke.

"He's not going to like this when he wakes up."

Rashid nodded his agreement but placed an arm on his partner's shoulder when the younger man tried to move away. "He will get used to it." There wasn't much more to say. There were things that Quatre was to be told today that would shatter the sheltered world the small thing had been living in. The world Quatre now lived in had rules of its own, traditions and teachings that went against everything the outside taught. But their roles in this life were different than those outside, and if Habsaba was right, then Quatre's role would be great indeed.

"Rad?"

"Shhhh, just rest, he is going to need us to be at our best. It is still early, I will watch over him."

Abdule smiled warmly. "You mean over us both. You always were a worrier."

A sad smile drifted over Rashid's face. "You were always awakening with nightmares, I worried about you often. Perhaps I am simply falling back into that mentality."

Nodding, Abdule pulled Quatre's hands to his chest and wrapped them under his arms, warming them more as Quatre sighed in an almost baby like contentment.

Rashid watched all of this with a sense of wonder and gentleness. Abdule had not always been so warm towards others, and he remembered well the withdrawn and hurt boy he'd taken under his care. But the changes were set in stone now, and watching Abdule with Quatre was perhaps the greatest sense of accomplishment Rashid had ever felt.

He wasn't delusional. Quatre was very hurt, both physically and emotionally, but mostly, his spirit was crushed beyond recognition. The boy would be difficult, but the Maguancs only took in those that could not be taken somewhere else. There were few requirements to enter into the ranks of the Jihad army, but those that were eligible were hard to find now in the colonies.

The boys that entered could not be over the age of twenty-one; those over this age could not be taught the true word of Allah and its meaning. He'd read that they'd tried once and nearly lost the entire rank. No, no one over the age of twenty-one.

And the gene. Long ago, the outside world had cast those with the gene of One out of their cities and homes, cursing their names and denying their existence. But the gene of One, now disgustingly called the "Homo" gene was something required by the laws of Allah.

Gently, Rashid brushed an errant strand of white blond hair from Quatre's forehead. The boy was beautiful, not handsome like most, but literally beautiful to behold. He traced the fine bone structure of the small thing, and though he knew that Quatre's body was in horrible shape, he couldn't help thinking that the boy would one day be the most beautiful among them. But he was so delicate, like fine crystal, one loud sound and he'd shatter; just like so many others had been like when they'd first arrived here.

That was another of the criteria for admittance into the ranks, despair. Usually it came because of this dreaded gene, but every now and then, they entered with their own kind of pain, ones that shattered hearts and reduced grown men to tears.

Quatre was like this. His experiences seemed to stem from the gene in his body, but where most were simply traumatized, Quatre had been brutalized.

Unbiddoned, his own memories of his time before the ranks came to him, and with a small growl he pushed them back into the vault of his memories. That boy no longer existed; he was not that boy.

But his growl must have been louder than he'd thought because Abdule sat up to look at him, at almost the same time Quatre shifted and slowly opened his eyes.

There was a moment of blurry warmth, and Quatre again closed his eyes out of satisfaction. But something tugged at his mind as he forced his eyes to open and blink away the sleep.

He wasn't expecting to see two large hazel eyes staring back at him. He wasn't expecting much at all, only the feel of cold metal and the hollow echo of his own breathing. It took him a moment to realize that the sound of breathing was not his echo but that of the man lying next to him on the bed.

Startled, he flinched, but his eyes refused to believe what was right in front of him. He tried blinking again, and even went so far as to tug his hands away from an unseen Abdule to rub at his eyes. When all that refused to yield the dream, he panicked.

Sleep heavy muscles that still ached from the day before, pushed against a strong expanse of chest. He shoved away from the older man only to feel himself once again in the arms of another. He looked up and into a pair of demonic red eyes before twisting to scramble away.

This couldn't be happening! Where had these people come from?! Where had the demon come from?! Why wasn't he alone?!

He managed to evade the thin arms that tried to wrap about his body, but when he finally managed to sit up, a strong arm, a strength he'd never felt before, grabbed him quickly about the chest and pulled him back down onto the bed.

But he'd seen the room, he knew he wasn't in his little shack, and the memories of the night before spun around him in a horrible litany of terrifying images. He struggled against the arm that held him pinned to the bed across his chest. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, the blood rushing in his ears, he failed to see the two men attempting to calm him down.

Where was he? Who were these people? Why were they hurting him?!

His struggles continued, and he put everything that he was into them, but fact still remained that he only managed to push the mattress away, not the hand draped over him. He felt fingers in his hair, and fought harder, shaking his head back and forth to dislodge the unfamiliar touch.

He wasn't sure when it started, but when the arm across his chest suddenly lifted he sprang across the bed, racing for a corner of the room and crouched down into it. When the blood in his ears stopped racing he quickly realize he was chanting, screaming in his high pitched voice over and over again.

"EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!! EVIL CHILD!!!"

As his senses returned to him he opened his tightly shut eyes and lowered his voice until it was a whispered litany of a prayer.

"evil child. evil child. evil child evil child. evil child. evil child. evil child…"

His eyes opened wide, and fearful he took in the half naked men that sat stunned and staring at him upon the bed. There was a mixture of emotions Quatre had no basis to understand but he though his heart felt fear and worry.

They were afraid of him, of the abomination that he was. They were worried that they'd too become like him, abandoned by Allah if they touched him. He was an evil child, Allah wanted no part in him. Allah had forsaken him, and no one wanted an evil child. He was so evil, evil, evil, evil…

With the condemning words in his head, Quatre closed his eyes against the sight before him, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, fingernails biting into the skin of his face. A high pitched whine issued from his throat before whimpers of fear and pain followed.

His feet throbbed, but Quatre wouldn't allow his mind to drift that way. He was always alone! If he just closed his eyes, if he pretended he wasn't here, they'd go away. No one wanted to be in the presence of evil. They'd leave, and he'd be alone again, all alone. Alone.

It had taken a moment for Rashid to understand the screaming boy's words, but when "Evil Child" had registered, he'd been momentarily stunned and released the struggling boy. Who had said this to him?! Who had put such hurtful and hateful lies into his delicate mind!? As he'd watched Quatre race across the bed to curl into the corner by the door, he'd been enraged internally, but held his face in worry as he looked towards the child.

This wasn't right, and as the boy's screams turned into whispered words of self-hate, he wanted to weep at the broken pain filled boy before him. He saw Quatre open his eyes once again before shutting them tightly, his face straining to block out the world as he rocked back and forth and whimpered.

He heard Abdule gasp in a broken sob before he focused all of his senses on the small huddled mass. Standing he made as much noise as he could approaching the boy, but when he reached out to touch him, he knew that Quatre had not heard his approach.

Startled and afraid, the boy lashed out again, kicking his injured feet into Rashid's shins. The physical pain was nothing, he barely felt the child's strongest efforts to protect himself. With soft hands he gently pulled Quatre's back from the corner, pulled him against his chest and spoke softly as the boy once again began to scream.

In a flurry of movement, Abdule stood before him, a blanket in his hands and together they wrapped the screaming and struggling boy tightly into the fabric.

But the sounds of a child screaming was not common in the Maguanac's sanctuary, and Rashid turned a hard gaze as the door to the room flew open and Heero entered, Duo and Wufei flanking him on either side.

He allowed them a look, to decipher exactly what was happen, and that the boy was not being hurt or had hurt himself before issuing his command.

"Get out."

He saw Heero nod and the soldier turned, pushing a distraught Duo from the room, followed by Wufei.

Rashid turned back to the struggling boy. None of the Maguancs feared either he or Abdule would ever hurt the boy, but all knew of Quatre's expressed talents. The screaming that sounded so full of fear had attracted the basic instinct in all Maguancs, protect their own.

With a twist of his body, and the barest touch of his real strength, Rashid turned so his back was to the wall and pulled Quatre, screaming, into his lap. In front of him, Abdule's hushed words and gentle pleadings were going unheard by Quatre, and so Rashid loosened the blanket about the boy's chest, and quickly placed his large hand in the center of the ivory expanse.

Struggling even harder at the contact, Quatre's screams continued and Abdule looked lost and frightened as he turned his eyes pleadingly towards his Teacher.

Rashid took a moment to note how very much alike Quatre was to Abdule before ordering his thoughts and shoving all of his emotions to the front of his mind.

The silence was deafening as the last of Quatre's screams faded into a faint ringing. It both pleased and frightened him.

Looking down at the boy, Rashid winced. Eyes open in something akin to awe and fear, Quatre stared at Abdule, and right through him into a world of his own. The struggles had stopped, and now the boy sat in almost a dead stillness in his arms.

A quick glance at Abdule revealed that the young man had no idea what was happening. He smiled to ease his Recruit's fears before moving the hand not on Quatre's chest to run gentle fingers through dry and damaged blond hair.

Quatre shivered at the contact, but his gaze never broke from that nonexistent focus. Leaning his head down, Rashid rested his cheek against Quatre's, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, focusing on keeping his emotions on the forefront of his mind.

In gentle tones, he softly spoke to Quatre, knowing his voice and his alone would make it through to the boy's mind.

"We will not hurt you, Quatre. You are safe now. I know you have nothing to compare it with, having never known true safety in your short life, but you will soon learn what it means to not be afraid. Breathe deeply and try to calm yourself. I will explain all that I can soon, once you have become calm. Rest your soul Young One, it need not guard itself when you are with us.

"What you feel is my fear, my worry for you. I do not yet know what has truly happened to you, and a part of me is afraid that I will not be able to reach you. That is where the fear comes from. I worry because you are my Recruit, like a student or a son. These things will make more sense soon, but you must try to trust me, trust that I will not let anymore harm come to you.

"Things are about to begin, young Quatre, things that you will not at first understand. You must try to trust me. I know that you know little about your abilities, your gifts from the Great One, but if you can, try to see that I speak the truth. Your trust is something that I will have to earn, a challenge I accept, but you must not bar the door before I have even the chance to knock."

His hand stroked gently against the middle of Quatre's chest, the center of his being, his heart. There was a flutter of movement again, only this time it was Quatre. The boy's hands had moved from their places at his sides to press against his own hand upon his chest. He smiled softly to no one as he nuzzled the soft cheek of the boy.

"That is right, Young One. You do not know why yet, but you understand that I am not here to hurt you. That will not dispel all of your fears, but it will ease some of them. Try to relax little Quatre, no one here will hurt you. I will not let them."

Abdule moved, shifting so he was half a foot closer to Quatre. Breaking his concentration on Quatre, Rashid moved his hand to brush his fingers against his lover's cheek. In a grateful gesture, Abdule nuzzled his hand before leaning back and indicating that he should concentrate on Quatre.

"He needs you now."

But Rashid shook his head. "It is apparent that you will both need me, now more than ever." He smiled softly to Abdule's concerned look before turning back to Quatre and carefully easing his hand from Quatre's grip and away from his chest.

There was an odd moment of stillness as Quatre shook himself from the dream like state he'd been in. He was tired, very tired, and yet he felt calmer than he had when he'd awoken this morning. He was still warm and he closed his eyes against the delicious heat before drawing in a deep breath and opening his eyes.

He again startled and tensed at the demon eyes before him. The demon must have noticed because it closed it's eyes and moved away, returning soon with a pair of black shades on. Quatre let out a breath as he recognized the man that had helped him only the day before.

Only the day before. It seemed so long ago. Had his life really changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? He closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the expanse of muscle behind him. He didn't quite know what was going on, didn't know if he liked being held as he was, didn't know if he liked being touched at all, but he knew one thing, he wasn't in any immediate danger.

"Quatre?" Startled out of his heavy thoughts, Quatre turned his head to the side to examine the strong face before him. This man was so different, not anything like what Quatre had expected. Pain and rage he'd anticipated, calm and caring he had not.

"You—" Quatre blinked, startled by the sound of his own voice. He hadn't wanted to say anything, only to listen, but now that he'd spoken, the man seemed expectant. Flinching away from that expectation Quatre ducked his head, not daring to look at the giant.

"Go on, Quatre. What did you want to say?" Quatre shook his head, he didn't want to speak, didn't want his voice to make anymore sound, anymore words than it already had. Words, words hurt worst of all. But the gentle giant insisted. "Yes. Speak, Little Quatre."

An endearment? He'd head them before, programs on the vid showed fathers using them all the time on their perfect children, but never, in all his years had he ever heard one used on him. He looked up at his captor, a mixture of guarded desire and fearful pleading.

The giant held his ground.

Shaking himself a little, Quatre again ducked his head before looking back at the man in front of him, the man in the sunglasses.

"A-Are you…a d-demon?"

The world shook for a moment, and Quatre tensed as he realized that it was the movement from the giant's laughing. He looked up from his place to once again look under hooded lashes at the man in dark glasses. He was laughing.

"Naw! I'm not a demon, though there are some that might argue with me. Nope, I'm just Abdule. My eyes are like this because of the Gundanium mines. There was some kind of chemical leak and it got into my eyes a long time ago. Now, I can see about two more colors than everyone else, but my eyes look like this." He shrugged. "They freak people out so I usually wear shades to cover them up." He paused to look at Quatre for a concerned moment. "Not that anyone one says anything anymore, not since I became a Maguanc, but I guess old habits die hard."

There was something in this man, something in the way he talked that both set Quatre at ease and tensed his muscles beyond belief. He didn't know what it was, or why he felt so confused. He decided to try to figure it out, what other option did he have?

"I-I heard about Gun-gundanium mines once. A-A story on the vid. They were loud." His words were paced and had taken a great deal of energy out of him to say, but he felt a strange kind of compulsion to say them. It was as if someone were telling him to say the words, to not be afraid.

A gentle smile fell across the young man's face, and Quatre noted that the smile was genuine since the level of his glasses rose to indicate the smile had reached his eyes.

"They were really loud. In fact it was so loud you could hardly hear someone screaming if they stood right next to you. Did you have a vid where you were staying?"

Too much! He withdrew, drawing his hands back against his chest as he turned his head away from the man before him and into the chest of another. He felt caught, trapped once again, and carefully, he began to try to be released.

"Shhhhh, Quatre." It was the giant. "Abdule was too hasty, you are not ready to talk yet, and that is alright. Now is the time for listening. I will tell you the things you need to know about your new life here, and then I will give you something to read to help you understand as well. But first it is morning and we must pray. Then we will eat; you need to regain your strength."

Shifting, the older man let go of his arms and Quatre quickly stood, thankful to be released from the strange feelings. Then the two men stood and together they moved to leave the room. The older turned to address him.

"Do you pray to Allah in the morning?"

Not knowing if he should answer the question he once again ducked his head before shaking it 'no'. Not wishing to incur the large man's wrath, he quickly explained.

"No clocks. Never know when m-morning is."

The deep voice was gentle as he spoke.

"Have no fear. Come with us, we will pray to the Great One together."

He wanted to say "No," to say that he could pray to his beloved God on his own, and that if it was Allah's will to forsake him, then it was his burden to bare alone. But the two waited patiently by the door for him, and so he carefully took a step forward, not knowing what to expect behind the door.

When he came upon them, a large hand fell on his shoulder and he quickly shrugged it off, drawing his arms across his chest to separate himself from them. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, Allah would not condemn these men for praying with him.

The man in sunglasses left the room, and once he realized the giant was waiting for him, Quatre quickly stepped into the next room as well.

It was big. Bigger than his whole shack! It must have been a living room, and Quatre's eye stared longingly at the comfortable looking couch against the far wall. To his right he could see a small kitchen, and to his left three doors. There was one door next to the kitchen, and it was in front of this door that Quatre saw the man that could have been a demon standing.

He saw out of the corner of his eye a large hand once again reach out to touch him, and so he stepped quickly away keeping his head ducked. Understanding the gesture on some wayward level, Quatre timidly moved towards the door that was now opened, the glasses wearing man standing inside.

The room was nearly bare, with a soft white carpet across the floor. To his left was a small fountain and base; it was large enough to stand a body in, but didn't seem to take up much space in the small but cozy room. Candles stood on pedestals around the room and Quatre watched absently as the younger man moved to light a few.

But as his eyes traveled across the room, they fell upon the white bound and paged book that he knew so well. As a boy his father had insisted he read it, forcing him to memorize it word for word. As he'd grown up, alone and with little in the way of distraction, he'd taken to reading the book, studying the document that had so readily condemned his existence some two thousand years after its creation.

The Qur'an sat upon an ornate gold pedestal, beautifully gold crafted leaves stood out against the twisting of the gold depiction of vines as they raced up to create the platform the Holy Book rested upon.

He felt the older man's presence behind him, and so he ducked his head, knowing he had no right to look upon the Holy Book of Allah's words.

"Come, Quatre. Kneel next to me. Were you taught the actions of the Morning Prayer?"

As they moved, Quatre remained silent until he was kneeling in front of the book of his ancestors. Not wanting to speak, he nodded instead.

"Good." He heard the man say. "Let us begin."

He knew the movements by heart. There had once been a time where he'd believed that with enough prayer he could convince Allah of his love so that the Great One would somehow take the hated gene from his body. He remembered days and days of prayer that he'd forced himself to continue for weeks and months at a time. He'd fasted completely when he had food, hoping that Allah would find him worthy of healing. But his God had brought him little relief, and he'd eventually given up hope of Allah's grace. Try as he might though, he could not dissuade himself from performing his prayers, and five times a day, when he thought it should be time, he'd knelt on the unfinished ribbing of the satellite and performed his prayers to Allah, devoting his entire being into his faith.

He spoke not a word, unfamiliar with the need to voice his prayers, Allah heard all, spoken and not. So he recited the words in his mind, offering them to Allah along with a prayer for mercy. Evil children went to Hell, a horrible place unknown to mankind. He desperately prayed that Allah would take pity on him and cast him into nothingness rather than the bowels of Hell; but he held little hope. He also prayed that these two men beside him would be forgiven, his presence with them not allowed to be written into their books of judgment.

When the prayer was over, he remained where he was as the two men stood and extinguished the candles. Finally, the older one squatted down next to him.

"Come, Quatre. We will eat and then I will explain what has happened to you. Are you hungry?"

After a moment, Quatre shook his head. He wasn't hungry, there were never enough rations to last if he ate first thing when he woke up. There were usually enough for one meal, and even then he was never full, he didn't entirely understand that concept--to be full.

Perhaps the giant somehow understood this. "I suppose that is understandable. But still, Wufei has designed a strict diet for you to consume to regain some strength, so we will eat here instead of with the others." The man gave a half laugh, and it caught Quatre's attention enough to force him to look at the giant. "I am not sure you will like the shakes you have to drink, but it is better than nothing."

Quatre said nothing as he stood and moved behind the man. The door was closed behind him, before they walked towards the kitchen where the glasses wearing man was stirring something in a glass.

He started as the young man smiled and handed him the white mixture.

"It probably tastes like chalk but Wufei—our doctor—insists that it's good for you. If it tastes bad, I could probably add some vanilla to it to give it some flavor." The statement was left hanging open, and Quatre chose to ignore it as he brought the glass to his nose to smell.

It smelled awful. But he'd learned a long time ago how to pick mold off of foodstuffs so he could eat, and this couldn't be much different. Without another pause, he brought the glass to his lips and drank the thick liquid.

He'd had worse, and for the most part it was better than his usual fare. He closed his eyes against the looks on the men's faces as they watched him, and continued to drink. Sip by thick sip slipped down his throat as he consumed the mixture, feeling it settle with a cool feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The painful ache of an invaded stomach accompanied it, and Quatre clenched his eyes against the instantaneous cramps that came from the nourishment. There were some months when his father miscalculated the amount of food stores, and in those months Quatre had gone as long as seven days without food, with little more than water to hold him. The cramps of food were nothing new to him, and so he endured, the pain forgotten for the feel of something for his body to live off of.

When finally there was nothing left, he stared blankly into the empty glass, fearful of making the wrong move, and terrified that he had no idea what the right or wrong move was anyway. Slim hands reached out and took the glass from him, but Quatre snatched his hands from touching the skin of those fingers.

Hearing a strange sound he turned to see the giant push a few buttons into a wall, only to have that wall partially lift, and a booth like table fold out. He'd heard about these things, his family had never needed to use them. What he could remember of his home consisted of an infinite amount of space. But the folding table was large, and cast the room into a much cozier atmosphere.

The giant indicated he should sit on one side of the table, and not knowing what else to do, he obeyed. The man then turned towards the kitchen to help the other prepare a simple breakfast of toast and spiced meat.

Once his father had felt generous towards his forgotten son and had brought him a small tray of spiced meats. He'd eaten it quickly, starving for something to fill his stomach. But something had gone wrong, and for days after he'd been too sick to move. He'd scoured the data libraries later, searching for a cause, trying to decide if it had been his father's intention to kill him then and there. But he'd learned about heavy foods and empty stomachs, and decided that he should not have eaten such delicacies after nothing of its kind in his memory.

The two men must have thought of this as the smaller one passed him a slice of toast and the larger man told him to eat it. Full to his understanding of the word, he stared at the buttered bread intently, trying to use it as a shield against the two men in front of him. It didn't work.

"Do you not like toast, Quatre? I could make you something else." It was the thinner man, and Quatre quickly shook his head. Why should they trouble themselves for someone like him? Besides, he wasn't hungry.

"Perhaps," the older man was speaking, and Quatre looked up to listen to him. "You are at a disadvantage as we seem to know your name, and you do not know ours. I am Rashid, and from this point on I am your Teacher in the ways of the Maguancs. This," he indicated the man next to him. "Is Abdule, my first Recruit. You may remember that word, 'Recruit' from yesterday. Both you and Abdule are Recruits. For eleven years, from the time you enter into the Maguancs, you are considered a Recruit and under the guidance of your Teacher. Abdule is in his last year, and that is why I was able to take you both as Recruits at the same time, otherwise you would be taught by someone else."

It wasn't so much that the words overwhelmed him, but the sound, voices. It'd been so long since he'd heard voices that weren't inherently meant to hurt him. He understood what the words meant, but to hear them, to hear calm and soothing tones issued towards him in mass instead of angry shouts, it was hard for him to concentrate on the meaning instead of just the sounds.

He shook himself a moment, and forced his mind to assimilate the words into cohesive sentences and to decipher what those sentences meant. He knew now for sure what the men's names were, and Quatre reasoned quickly that the leader between the two had to be the giant, Rashid. He wasn't sure of the role the younger man—Abdule—played, but it couldn't really be that close to his own, even if they shared the same title.

Recruit? What did it mean? He vaguely remembered hearing something about Rashid being his Teacher, and he was now the student, or was it son? He couldn't remember, and it was frustrating! To come from a place where he knew all the answers by heart, where his schedule was set into stone and fluctuated only around the time the food stores ran out and he knew his father would be returning, Quatre was flustered.

He tried not to let it show, these men were still strangers to him and weakness was not something he could afford. But his face was like an opened book, and he knew immediately that he'd not hidden very well from them. Would they be angry with him for his lack of attention, he assumed they would, everyone else in his life had been.

Rashid spoke. "It is a lot to assimilate all at once. Finish your breakfast and then we will discuss it all in detail." He looked like he wanted to say more, but Quatre shifted his eyes back to the toast in his hand, wanting to eat it, for some reason wanting to please these men, but not having the room in his shrunken stomach.

He was startled when a slim hand took the toast from him. Abdule gave his stunned expression a soft smile. "I figured you were full, and you probably weren't comfortable enough to say so. You can tell us anything, Quatre, but you'll realize that in a moment. If everyone's finished, why don't we sit down in the living room and explain things so Quatre can understand?"

Rashid nodded his agreement, and after affirming that Quatre was indeed full, cleaned off the table and motioned to the couch. "Quatre, take a seat."

He moved slowly towards the couch, aware of every footstep he took. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Five minutes later they were settled. Rashid sat to Quatre's left while Abdule took a seat in a chair across from him. Quatre felt crowded, boxed in by the back of the couch, its arm, and Rashid's immense presence so close to him. He was firmly pressed into the couch arm and he wasn't sure where he'd go if Rashid tried to touch him again.

He'd noticed that these two men touched each other often. Watching them as they'd put the breakfast things away, he'd noticed they touched when passing the dishes or a hand settled onto a shoulder in the middle of something one of them was saying. It was unlike anything he'd witnessed before and Quatre was fearful of the implications.

Touching was supposed to be good. People did it all the time on the vid. But what if these men tried to touch him, tried to touch the devil's evil child? Would they be contaminated like he was? Would they be abandoned by Allah just like he'd been? And when they were, what would they do to him in anger?

"Quatre?"

He looked up, stared into deep hazel eyes before looking away. There was such power in those eyes and he quickly found that he could not stand up to them. They seemed to reach into his soul and Quatre didn't want that, didn't want this man polluted like he was.

"Quatre, how much have you studied of the Qur'an?"

Surprised by the question Quatre again looked up. With all of his might he fought the urge to back down from those eyes and that knowing look. In the end, he had to look away once again and he held his tongue, keeping silent just in case.

"Quatre?" The man paused before attempting another tactic. "Have you read it from cover to cover?"

This Quatre could answer. He nodded.

"More than once?"

He nodded again.

"More than five times?"

Again he nodded.

"More than ten?"

How much further was this going to go? He didn't know what the man wanted. Looking up, Quatre spoke softly, hoping to take the attention away from himself by letting his voice escape.

"I-I read it everyday."

Rashid seemed surprised. "Everyday?"

Quatre nodded.

"If you had to guess the number of times you'd read it completely, how many would it be?"

Silently he tried to figure it out. He didn't like the questions but the man seemed unwilling to leave him alone.

He shrugged. "Five…six hundred times."

"What?!" Abdule looked stunned and disbelieving. "You can't be serious!"

"Of course he is serious!" Rashid's voice was stern and Quatre watched as Abdule looked startled at the older man's outburst before ducking his head and nodding.

"I'm sorry, Quatre. That's just a lot of times to read it. Why so many?"

What should he say? That's he'd read it hoping against hope that Allah would be merciful, that his God would grant him a miracle? Perhaps that he'd read it for nearly a year, analyzing the passages in the hopes of finding something someone had missed throughout the centuries; something that would show that Allah had not forsaken him and that he could go home. What should he say?

He didn't answer.

After a moment, Rashid began a new set of questions.

"Were you given a teacher in the ways of Islam and the proper way to be a Muslim?"

Quatre shook his head.

"Yet you know the rituals and movements of the daily prayers. How did you learn these?"

"I-there was a vid-a program…it showed the movements…the Qur'an describes them as well."

Rashid nodded. "A vid program showed Islamic worship?"

He nodded again.

"Who told you that you were an evil child?"

Startled yet again, Quatre jerked his head up from his examination of his throbbing feet. But Rashid's demeanor was still what he thought was calm. He concentrated as hard as he could and felt no hatred or malice from the man. But it was so hard, so hard to think clearly with so many feelings racing around him, with two men he did not know crowding him in an unfamiliar place. He was scared, he admitted that, and he was alone. The aloneness he could handle, the fear he could handle as well, but this was different, foreign in a way he couldn't comprehend.

He didn't want to answer, but again some strange part of his mind told him to speak. Mohammed taught to follow one's instincts. Who was he to refrain?

"The re-reprogrammer."

"Reprogrammer?"

He nodded.

"Quatre, who was this 'reprogrammer'?"

He shrugged, he didn't know.

"What did he say to you?"

No! He couldn't be asking what he was! Wasn't he worthless enough? Wasn't he abandoned already? Didn't Allah already mean to send him to Hell when he made the final judgment? Now this man wanted Quatre to speak the words that condemned him. No! No, he wouldn't!

He shook his head.

"Do you remember?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"Then what did he say?"

Again he simply shook his head.

"Quatre—"

The younger man stepped in suddenly. "You know, Quatre. Anything that man said to you was untrue. See, he didn't know the whole story, not for people like us, special people Allah has granted passage for. Rashid want's to know what that man said to you so he knows what you know and can correct the errors you've been taught. But I think I understand. It was probably very hard for you, the things that man must have said. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to repeat them. Words have a way of becoming true if you say them out loud, don't they?"

Wide eyed, he looked at Abdule before slowly nodding his head. How had this man known?

Abdule smiled. "The year I came in as Recruit, there was another boy with me whose father had put him through "reprogramming." He said it was awful, and actually, now that I think about it, he hardly ever talks about it. I can guess how awful it must have been for the both of you."

It had been. Long hours of listening to that old man telling him he was going to Hell because his soul was tainted, that he'd displeased Allah and that Allah had forsaken him, wanted no part in him. Then the abuse, the beatings and beatings that left him bloody and pain ridden for days. But the man would always return, hate and damnation on his lips. He'd tried to teach Quatre the way Allah wanted him to act, but Quatre could never get it right, could never please the man and so he was beaten. Over the years since his father had given up on him, Quatre had tried to forget those dark times, but 'evil child' was a constant scream upon his lips when awakened from nightmares. He didn't think he'd ever truly be able to forget.

He nodded to answer Abdule's statement.

The smaller man spoke again and with his words, Quatre's world split apart around him. "He was wrong, Quatre. Allah would never abandon his people, he loves them, all of them, even those that sin against him. But you're not a sinner Quatre. Think hard, didn't Allah tell Mohammed that those born into the world without means of performing worship to Him were not any less his people than those that devoted every moment to him? Following just the Qur'an you recognize, that automatically absolves you from your genetic… "defect" if you must. Allah would never condemn you, he gives you free choices to love Him or not. You've obviously chosen to love Him. Little Quatre, listen well, Allah is merciful and great, He has not forsaken you."

By Allah, could that be true?! He searched his memory, searched through the entire text of the Qur'an--of which he'd already memorized the entire thing--searched for the passages that Abdule was speaking about and thought about it in this very context. But it couldn't be right! It couldn't be that simple! Families had been killing tube children for nearly two hundred years because of this hated gene he carried in his body, how could so many for so long have been wrong?

He shook his head to deny it.

"No Quatre, he is right."

Quatre knew his eyes were pleading as he looked to the older man. It couldn't be right, it just wasn't possible. He'd spent his entire life paying for the crimes of his birth, no one could tell him it'd been for nothing.

But Rashid moved forward, resting his hand on the back of the couch close to Quatre without touching him; it didn't matter, Quatre still flinched.

"Quatre, I am going to tell you things now that you cannot find in the Qur'an that you read before coming here. The Holy Book in the other room has this information though and you are welcome to read it when we are done speaking.

"The things I am going to tell you may anger you, you would not be the first to feel betrayed by Allah, but remember that everything we go through is a lesson, a test of our faith, and your test is now over. Little Quatre, you have passed into something much better."

Rashid paused, and Quatre drew in a shielding breath against what he feared this man was about to tell him. What did he mean? How could one Qur'an be different from another? They were all intimately equal, not one word was different no matter what the outside or the pages looked like. Of all the ancient religions, Islam was the only one with true words from The Prophet. Two books of the Qur'an had to be the same, otherwise one was incorrect. Wasn't it?

Rashid noticed his dilemma and smiled. "It is true that your version of the Qur'an is correct. But the Maguanacs—Allah's Jihad army—have another chapter that takes precedence over the teachings of the Qur'an that you know.

"Aisha, Mohammed's wife, saw the struggles that were created by The Prophet's death among Allah's people and wished to end their fighting. One night, as she was praying in the gardens, the messenger angel came to her and bid her to memorize the words he wrote in the sand at her feet. Aisha had never been visited by an angel and the Qur'an you've read does not discuss her accounts of Allah's words. This is because the Great One bid her to recite His teachings only to a selection of one hundred men, men chosen by Allah in His infinite wisdom. To these men she recited the tale of the angel and Allah's words in the sand at her feet. Knowing in their hearts that Aisha's words were truth, they secretly wrote them down and kept the final chapter of the Qur'an hidden from the eyes of the people.

"You may wonder why it was a secret, since Islam rejects secrecy almost all of the time. But the one hundred men chosen by Allah were men that were different from the rest, they possessed three important qualities that set them apart from His other people.

"First of all, they were all slaves. Perhaps not slaves in body, but slaves by mind. Some were ruled by money, while others were ruled by lust for power. Some indeed were slaves with human masters, but the majority were all men beaten down by their so called 'masters.' They were ostracized, cast out from society, and rejected for various reasons. They were not like Allah's other people.

"Second, they were all under the age of twenty-one. These men were men back then, but would now seem like boys. Not all were even above the age of puberty, which is a strict way of judgment to most Muslims and Islamic Law.

"Finally, what set them apart from the rest were that they had all decided to leave the faith of Allah because of Mohammed's words about relations among members of the same sex, homosexuality. As you know, this is a great sin in the world of Islam, anything from floggings to death are the punishments for such sins and parents even disobey Allah's words by killing their own children simply because they possess the gene of homosexuality.

"But Allah's new and final chapter to the Qur'an halted the men from leaving and instead compelled them to stay as it spoke the truth to them and their new place in Allah's realm."

Rashid paused and Quatre's mind continued to swim at the knowledge. Aisha had never seen the angels of Allah, she'd never gathered a hundred men to her, she'd barely ever left her home! This just couldn't be true!

But Rashid was continuing, his voice at a softer and slower pace, allowing Quatre's mind to firmly grasp everything he was saying.

"Allah's greatest desire was for mankind to find Him and to be happy. He believed in family, the sanctity of marriage, and the protection of basic human rights. He knew that to achieve this there would need to be some kind of defense to protect the people of Islam from those that would destroy them out of fear or jealousy.

"But how to do this? The Great One knew that He could not just take men from their families, for they were needed to protect wives and children. He could not destroy the very foundation on which Islam rose, the family. So in His wisdom, He instructed Aisha to form an army, an army of one hundred men of Allah's choosing, who would be the core defenders of the faith so that families could be protected.

"So into this army went men that were of age to understand the delicately reworded instructions of Allah; those that were slaves of the spirit who's only hope was a unity of strength; and finally those that would never have children or take wives with which to leave helpless. An army of one hundred men, who's sole purpose was to defend the people of Islam and find a sense of family between themselves.

"At first these men were separated into small groups, knowing of each other but keeping their divine instructions hidden. It was told by Allah, that His people were not to be ruled by His secret laws to these select one hundred men. Allah specially chose these men and their ranks would always be filled by Allah's will. And they were, for nearly two thousand years, while these men worked in secret, protecting Islam from the shadows.

"In the year 1 BC, it was finally decided that that the Qur'an would be reinterpreted, as it was obvious man was making a move to space and things were simply too different from the first and only interpretation of Islamic Law. When this was done, the one hundred men of the Maguanacs came forward. They told their story to the judges and were found to be truthful and hence the culmination of hundreds of years of suffering was created into the legendary Jihad Army of Allah, the Maguanacs.

"The Islamic Law was reordered, but the Maguanacs kept from them the final book Allah had granted them. For in Aisha's final vision of the angel messenger, he had told her Allah would make it known to the Jihad Army when to reveal His last words to all, at which time they would become His first. So it came to pass that the Maguanacs were given the title of "Defenders of Islam" and sent to space first among the Muslims so that they could defend Islam from the heavens. On this very colony they created a home, a place were one hundred men became family in a common obsession to protect Allah's people and His religion known as Islam."

Quatre couldn't see himself of course, but he was certain his eyes must have been huge with surprise and doubt. The second interpretation of the Laws of Islam was nearly two hundred years ago, but those teachings had only brought about the laws that defined his terror. The gene identified as the 'Homo' gene was a sin against Allah, because to be homosexual was a sin against Allah's decree of marriage and children, of family.

Rashid interrupted his thoughts. "I can tell that you are confused, Quatre. Do not be ashamed of it. There are many new things you must learn and most of them will make me sound as if I am a heretic against Allah. But I swear to you that everything I say is Allah's truth, and you will be able to see the words themselves when you go to read the Qur'an in the prayer room. You may doubt even then, most do, and at that point Abdule and I will take you to the Mosque. But I get ahead of myself, let me tell you first the differences in Allah's separate laws for His Jihad Army.

"First, the original one hundred men would take in what are known are Recruits, boys under twenty-one years of age that met the defined requirements. They would teach these boys the secret words of Allah so that they too could fight to defend Islam and her people when required. The men would teach the Recruits the ways of warfare so that Muslim men would not have to learn it, they would teach them about the darker side of the world so that Muslims would not have to dirty their souls to learn it. And these men would teach the Recruits that their souls were not in danger because of the acts they committed, as they were protect by Allah's covenant to His Army, 'All your deeds do I forgive when done to protect My people.'

"Secondly, no man that enters into the Maguanacs is ever allowed to marry a woman, or to produce children. This may seem hard to understand, since Allah wished all people to experience marriage and the happiness of children--the gifts of the family. But Allah is wise, He knew that His army would require time away from wives and children and that the men in the ranks could not be good fathers and husbands. So He forbade them from doing these things to protect His love for the family, so that the men would feel no guilt leaving behind their wives and children would not be left to learn alone the words of Allah. But this does not mean that Allah forbade them family.

"In perhaps the most important revelation given to Aisha in the gardens were these words:

'My mighty defenders of Islam and Her people, do not despair for I know your fears and understand them. I know all that is, and all that will ever be. I grant you this, so that you may know family and love, for you are the chosen defenders of My will, and I will not forsake you. So learn from each other and take pleasure from each other, because I have willed it that you may. You who are not responsible for strengthening the numbers of My people; you who are separate in your needs and duties; I give you leave to know paradise with each other, and in that you may know Me. For I am the desire within you that leads you to your place as defenders of My people.'

"It is with this passage, and others that follow it, that the Maguanacs are given permission and indeed told to, engage in relations with each other. We are all like you Quatre, men born with the so called 'Homo' gene. But Allah refers to us as 'One' and so we have begun to call it the gene of One.

"You are a Maguanac, Quatre, by Allah's placement of this gene in your body you are destined to be one of us. You are neither evil nor forsaken, for Allah loves you, has always loved you, and will never abandon you. You have been chosen by Allah for a great service and your time of testing is now to be rewarded, for you have been faithful to Allah and He has delivered you here to be with your own kind.

"I can tell you do not believe me, that or you are too afraid to do so. Go back to the prayer room, take the Qur'an from the pedestal and read. Because Allah willed it, the secret chapter of the Qur'an is the first in our Holy Book, as it take precedence over the later chapters known outside this sanctuary. Read it now Quatre, and when you have had time to understand it, return and I will try to answer your many questions. Do not be afraid, no question is wrong and the only sin is ignorance out of fear or pride. Go now, Abdule and I will await your return."

It seemed strange to him but he rose without protest or knowing his legs moved beneath him. His round eyes turned away from his Teacher and locked onto the door to the prayer room. As he approached it, his mind whirled at the implications of Rashid's words and he hesitated at the door.

Could he walk through? Could he really take that last step and perhaps learn that he'd been living a lie for his entire life? Could he move beyond this metal door and open a book that would shatter the foundation he'd stood on for so long? Could he read the words that would set him free and not go mad with the implications?

He didn't know.

A feeling told him to step forward. 

He followed the pull of Allah and stepped inside.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Qur'an lay disrespectfully on the floor of the prayer room, next to Quatre's kneeling form. He didn't remember it falling from his hands, only faintly the muffled 'thump' as it landed on the carpet.

His mind raced around the words the book had spoken.

"My will is your law, you who are My chosen defenders. Know paradise through each other so that you will know family as I have commanded. Know love with each other so that you might know Me. I give you to each other as family, from now until the day you die defending My people. Raise those who enter My army as your children so that you might know what it is to be fathers. Love them as both wives and children, comfort them until they may learn to comfort you. I have chose you to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and I give you My blessings so that you might know My infinite love for you, My chosen Ones."

He'd committed this passage of Aisha's chapter to memory already, absorbing it as though it was life. So many things in it spoke of salvation for him, so many paragraphs offered him forgiveness and solace. Allah did not abandon him it said, instead He'd blessed him, promising him paradise in exchange for protecting His people. 

He blinked, focusing his mind on the fallen book that either held salvation for him or damnation to those outside.

Violent tremors raced through his body as a chill seeped into his bones from somewhere unknown. The chapter, the new one, it couldn't be real, it just couldn't. Everything it said was a contradiction to Allah's teachings, everything! Men could not be with men, for any reason, even biological! But the text spoke of allowing it for these selected men who would fight to defend Islam. None of it could be real, none of it!

The chapter had to be fake, a fabrication of lies. These men were sent by the devil to tempt him, to make him believe that his freedom from suffering could be found on this plane instead of the next. No! He wouldn't be tempted. He wouldn't allow Satan to corrupt him! Allah might never save him, but he'd rather be lost for eternity than face Allah knowing he'd chosen to stand against him for convenience.

In a rush of rage on behalf of Islam, Quatre stood, absently picking up the Holy Book as he moved quickly towards the door. Before the sensor picked him up, he hesitated, taking a deep breath for what was to come. He'd expose them all as liars, as heretics of the faith, and he'd die for his faith if they chose to kill him to keep him silent.

When the door slid open, he saw Rashid and Abdule sitting on the couch together, their postures close. He'd interrupted a discussion they'd been having, and once again he hesitated wondering how long he'd run over the scriptures in his head on the floor of the prayer room.

Rashid was the first to address him.

"You have questions, Quatre." A statement, and Quatre felt the rage boil in him at the man's audacity. He knew he was a charlatan, and yet he continued to act as if he were speaking the truth. The shaking continued, this time with rage.

"It lies…you lie." His voice was barely controlled.

But Rashid slowly shook his head.

"No, Quatre, I speak the truth as much as the book in your hand does. Most do not believe the truth at first, they think it is too easy, that they did not have to do anything to achieve it. But the book and Allah's words through Aisha are correct."

In return Quatre violently shook his head in denial.

"Lies. Allah promised death to anyone who spoke falsely in His name! I won't fall to your temptations! I am damned, but I will not fall before Satan and beg!" He spat the words out, and he watched as Abdule closed his eyes as if he'd known this would be Quatre's reaction but had hoped otherwise.

"Quatre," he turned quickly to look at Rashid. "Allah knew that it would be against His teachings to send men out to war if there was no one to watch the women and children. He chose to create men who would fight to defend the Muslim masses so that the rest could continue in the tests He chose for them. But Allah is merciful, and knew that men forced into such lonely situations would forever be unhappy. He chose then to pick one hundred men that were shunned by society for their choices in sexual partners. These men would He grant a new set of laws, ensuring their happiness and their path to Him. Allah granted the Maguanacs special permission to know each other as family so that they too could be touched by His love. Think calmly, Quatre, Muhammad taught that Allah wished all people to be happy in their lives, and this was His way of ensuring peace and happiness for all."

It wasn't possible, it just wasn't! Allah was kind and wonderful, giving and understanding, but he had no place for people like him, for an evil child.

"You-you're pretty words don't change the message. Allah hates those that do not obey Him. Creating this false chapter in the hopes of easing your own suffering will only condemn you to the fires of Hell! Allah will punish you!"

Abdule shifted under the cold steel in Quatre's voice. "No Quatre, Allah loves all of His children. He created all of us. He would never have created you if you'd never stood a chance of knowing Him."

But Quatre refused to listen, couldn't afford to listen. "No, you're wrong! Allah had not part in my creation. I'm an abomination, all those created with the 'Homo' gene are! We're Satan's children, born evil to defile Allah's beauty! The lucky ones are killed at birth or sooner, those that live are condemned to never know peace, for that is what it means to be evil." His voice was low as he finished; the hated words of his "reprogrammer" floating past his memory.

"That isn't true, Quatre—"

"Isn't it!" He didn't remember screaming very much in his childhood. He'd always been taught that silence was a virtue, and when the pain from his "reprogramming" had become even more than he could bear, they'd often just beat him into unconsciousness to stop the screams. No fists or boots fell to silence him now. "Look at me! Everything that I am is an affront to Allah, everything! You're false book with its blasphemous chapter only serves to prove that! If what it said were true, then Allah would have made it so for all of His people, not just His army!"

This time Rashid tried.

"No one expects this to be easy for you to understand, Quatre. Most recruits take days even weeks to realize the truth right before their eyes. They have been taught the correct truth for Allah's people, but not for them, for Maguanacs.

"Long ago, men like us were thrown out of villages for seeking the company of other men. These men were cast to the four winds. But Allah found honest believers in them and rescued them, sending them to the Maguanacs. Our ancestors found them and took them in, taught them the true meaning behind their existences, as servants of Allah. That was the past, now in the present Allah cannot always direct them to us, so we've begun to hold Recruitments. The leader listens to the fathers, and takes in those boys who possess the three criteria of homosexuality, slavery, and age. That is what happened to you, Quatre. Master Habsaba listened to your father's words and found you met all of the requirements set down by Allah centuries ago. You are one of us, a Maguanac, a defender of Islam and her people."

Against his will he found that when Rashid spoke, his mind listened. Now as he thought over the things Rashid had said, he felt less convinced of his own convictions. Struggling against it, he searched his memory for anything he could use against this man. Finally he found the time-tested question.

"What proof do you have? How can you back up the claims you make?"

Rashid shook his head.

"Now it is you, Little Quatre, who asks Allah to prove Himself to you. But it is understandable, and I am sure Allah would approve of your honor to His teachings. You want proof of His teachings, and I will show it to you. Come with me."

Rashid stood, and Quatre felt his heart race. His anger fled him as fear took over, and the shaking continued as he took a hesitant step to follow. Abdule stood as well and proceeded Rashid out one of the doors on the left side of the room.

For a moment he was alone as he set the holy book on the table and approached the door knowing Rashid and Abdule were waiting on the other side for him. He took a breath, gathering his strength as best he could. He was no warrior, he didn't even know how to speak without fear. His body quaked with adrenaline as the blood pounded in his ears. He moved forward and tripped the sensors.

Just as he'd known they would be, Rashid and Abdule had waited for him and he noticed as he fell in line behind Rashid, Abdule opted to follow behind him, boxing him in as they walked down a brightly lit metal hallway.

This was the way Quatre remembered colonies looking. It was cold and sterile, inhospitable, and un-welcoming.

As he walked with determination, Abdule spoke up behind him.

"Rashid is the general over the two divisions of the Maguanacs. Zech's leads the warriors of the army, those such as assassins and thieves; while Treize directs the thinkers, strategists and technicians. But Rashid is leader over both of them. That's why he lives here, in the outskirts of the camps rather than in them; he is the Jihad's respected general." There was a dash of humor in Abdule's voice. "Treize and Zechs have rooms here and…here." He pointed to Quatre's left and right. "They prefer to live here rather than with the other men in the camps. These are all things you'll learn about soon, so don't sweat worrying about them."

Quatre was cold in returning Abdule's words.

"I don't intend to worry about it. I'll prove that you are all liars and then I'll be put to death, I assume."

Suddenly, Rashid spun around. His stunned and pained expression halting Quatre in his steps.

"Never! Just as Allah taught to be tolerant of others beliefs, we too will be tolerant of yours. You are one of us, even if you have not realized it yet. No one would hurt you any more than they would hurt anyone they considered family. As a Recruit you are like a child, Quatre, not expected to know what is correct or incorrect yet. Please, never believe I will allow any harm to come to you, ever!"

There was such pained conviction in Rashid's voice. Quatre felt the man's pain clearly, perhaps in the first clear reading of another's emotions in his life. There was nothing forced about the truth Rashid spoke, and Quatre again felt overwhelming fear that he might be wrong.

Not knowing what else to do, he nodded slowly, and after a long moment of thinking, Rashid turned to continue down the hallway.

He was so confused. A moment ago he'd been certain that Rashid was a liar, and that Allah would punish him for his blasphemy. But now, after hearing the way he'd just spoken, the feelings behind his speech, Quatre wasn't sure that was true. He didn't know, didn't understand, and that lack of knowledge ate at him as they continued.

Somewhere a few turns later, Abdule tried again.

"You might be interested to know that there is another Recruit this time around. His name is Trowa, and you'll most likely meet him in a few days. It was hard for me when I first got here because I was the only Recruit accepted, but with Trowa I'm sure you'll be able to talk and figure things out between the two of you. I didn't get a real good look at him, but some of the others were saying he's about your age, tall and skinny, he seems really quiet, but he might just have been scared. The people that brought him were terrible. I wasn't there of course, but I heard that they were just cruel. See Quatre, Trowa will be much happier here than with them, just like you'll be much happier here too. Try not to be afraid, and don't worry about being alone, you're with family now, and most of us know some of what you're going through."

He didn't comment, didn't have anything to say. He didn't want to know about this other boy, Trowa. He didn't care. All that mattered was finding the truth, everything else was of little consequence.

Rashid stopped by a door panel and entered a pass code before turning towards Quatre.

"This door has an access code that is triggered for the first year we have new Recruits. It's an old custom, but a custom none the less. Watch closely, this is the pass." Stunned, Quatre watched as the man gave him the information to make his escape should the need ever arise. As Quatre nodded his understanding of the code, he looked into Rashid's eyes and noticed that the man knew exactly what he'd given him. Again, Quatre felt that strange sensation of trusting him.

Suddenly the door opened and beyond the door Quatre saw something from storybooks and legends.

An immense room that seemed the length and depth of two football fields opened up before him. The architecture was incredible, as a high domed ceiling of glass was melded to marble columns and buttresses. Carvings detailed every stone on the walls and ceiling, and Quatre saw beautiful depictions of nature and humans, fantasy and dragons. It was awe inspiring in its craftsmanship and detail, and Quatre gazed at the painted frescos of the Garden of Eden. Around him were depictions of paradise, and Quatre soaked in the divine splendor of it all.

On the floor were more marble workings, with different colored stones marking the pathways as in the Great Hall. There were trees, beautiful trees that Quatre knew grew in warm climates, and indeed the temperature was warm, comfortable for him to be wearing loose cotton pants and a vest with nothing under neither. There was a light sweet smelling breeze and he felt his stomach rumble at the smell.

Fountains with stone carvings of unicorns and dragons were placed across the expanse in no order, while waist shallow pools surrounded them. Water poured forth in lavish displays, and some fountains boasted water that seemed to jump into the air, only to return to the pool to jump again.

Between the pools were large collections of pillows. Silks of all color lays stuffed and piled together. Roman settees lay about, while marble slabs acted as tables. The trees lined these fountains and pillows, offering shade from the simulated sun above them.

Far to his right, Quatre saw a mass of tents, where all colors of the rainbow existed, spaced far enough apart to give privacy. Some were large while others were small, some he could see the entrances to, while others were turned to face another path that ran behind.

But by far, the most compelling thing were the men. Dozens of men lounged around, some in the shade of the trees lying against pillows of silk, while still others lazily sat in the pools talking or simply existing. Some talked loudly and laughed with delight, while still others seemed quiet and introspective. Dress was sparse, and everywhere Quatre looked he wore more clothing than the rest.

It was like nothing he'd ever witnessed before, and it took his breath away. His satellite had not yet been finished when the workers had abandoned it twenty years before his father had taken him there. Half finished scaffoldings lined the interior, and he'd been hard pressed to find any beauty in the place at all. But this, this was infinitely more spectacular. He felt as if he'd stepped back in time, back to the day where man had not colonized space, and indeed had built nothing that ran on electricity at all. It was mystical to be gazing upon such wonders, and Quatre forgot himself and gave a silent prayer of thanks to Allah for allowing him to see such glory.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

Quatre looked up at Rashid and met the man's eyes. Such kindness and knowing. Something deep inside Quatre began to ache. He offered no response and soon Rashid conceded his silence and continued onward.

His breath caught again when he realized they were walking through the center of this maze of fountains, pillows, and columns. He tried to keep his eyes on Rashid's back at all times, but as the conversations dies as they approached, he felt the intruding emotions of the men they walked by.

Being accustomed to deciphering his emotions alone, these added weights pushed upon him, pressing against his shields until he brought his hand unconsciously to his chest in pain. They were curious about him he thought. He couldn't pick out any specific emotions, but that was the feeling he got. There was no organized thought to kill him, or even hurt him, only curiosity, and perhaps a touch of sadness.

The walk seemed long to him, but he guessed that it couldn't have taken more than ten minutes before they approached a massive door of steel and gold.

Rashid turned and smiled kindly to him.

"Only one of us has ever seen the ka'aba in Mecca since most of us were born in the colonies. Likewise most of us will never pilgrimage to Mecca. While Aisha's chapter speaks nothing of this, Allah did say that if it were not possible to pilgrimage He would know and understand. Most of us believe that, that will be the case with us. To fill the…hole that leaves for us, this mosque has been built as our place for community worship. You will notice that it is cubed shaped like the ka'aba in Mecca, it is mostly symbolism for us."

That said, Rashid pulled on the doors and Quatre was surprised to see that they were not hydraulic like all standard doors in space colonies.

Inside was dark, as only candles lit the interior. A few individuals were kneeling in the corner of the room as they walked in but none of them looked up at their entrance. It was silent, and their footsteps echoed in a muffled way as they crossed the carpeted floor. On the walls were scripture texts and Quatre noticed immediately that they all came from Aisha's chapter.

In the center of the room was a large, near ceiling high, black stone cube. It glimmered in the firelight, and Quatre saw as he got closer that the stone was cut from some material that contained gold. It was smooth, and perfect, not a blemish or mark distorted the symmetry of it. They walked around it to the right, until they came upon the door that led into the interior of the cube. Tradition held that only the spiritual leader of the pilgrims in Mecca could enter the ka'aba, but as Rashid moved to the door and again manually pushed on it, Quatre reasoned this could not be so here. To his left, Abdule explained in a whispered tone.

"One of the hardest things for a military group of men is finding someone they can respect as an Imam or leader in the prayers. It is written nowhere either in the Qur'an or Aisha's chapter that Muslims must refrain from entering the ka'aba, and indeed there was no such thing in the prophet's lifetime. We respect each other by entering one at a time and consider this room a very spiritual place to go if one is lost. If you ever need somewhere to go, just to be with Allah in private, you can come here. If the inner sanctuary is occupied by anyone, they will extinguish that candle next to the doorway. You just have to re-light it when you leave."

Details he wasn't sure he needed but didn't want to forget. Abdule seemed a calming spirit and yet Quatre felt a strange sense of holding back from the man, as if he were not entirely acting himself. He chose to ignore his feelings for the time being. Now was the time for answers.

Rashid stood next to the opening.

"You must enter alone, Quatre. We will be waiting for you. You will find the answers to your proof inside. Do not close yourself off to Allah and He will make the truth known to you." He spoke with such wisdom and conviction, and Quatre guessed that even if Aisha's chapter was false, Rashid did not know it.

Nodding to both Rashid and himself, Quatre stepped closer to the doorway. It was dark inside, lit by only one candle that was far away from the door. He couldn't see very well, and so with a deep breath he pushed his feet to step over the threshold. His second step carried him past the doorway and he heard the door pushed back into place by the hands of a giant.

It was cold inside and Quatre felt an immediate fear of being boxed into this stone coffin before he shook himself free from that half-formed vision. Slowly he made his way towards the single lit candle. He noted absently the candle was burning with aid from a Gundamium alloy byproduct which burned without any residue but cost a fortune. His eyes burned from the shift in light to dark and back again.

When his eyes adjusted, he looked next to the candle to find a very strange set of documents. Laid out across the expanse of the wall was a glass case, which was easily opened with the push of the release button. Inside the case however was an odd assortment of objects.

On the far left were fragments of cloth, followed by animal bones, leaves, and finally a strange looking paper. On all of these objects were faint but legible Arabic writings. The writings were in a miss-match of colored inks and obvious handwriting differences. Some letters were elegant, and some looked as if a child had written them. The bones had the writings carved into them, while the leaves and paper continued with the inks.

His heart beat wildly as he looked upon the objects, refusing to read the words written on them. His breathing increased and soon he was gasping for air in quick unproductive gulps that left him dizzy and weak. His body shook, and as his emotions raced, Quatre grabbed at his heart to hold the aching pain in.

Slowly, he turned back towards the doorway. It was dark and he could not see the outline of the door from this distance. Some part of his mind knew that the moment he turned back to face the objects his life would be forever changed. He knew if he turned around, he'd never be Quatre Winner again, only Quatre of the Maguanacs.

Fifteen years of teachings swam through his memory, as he thought of all the painful suffering he'd endured to be where he was right now. His life was one constant torture after another, and he'd been alone for so long, lost for so long. Could he find salvation? Had it found him? Could he have feared Allah's wrath without merit? Was it all pointless if he turned around now and read the words on the objects there? And if it was so, if everything Rashid had said and everything Aisha's chapter spoke about were true, could he ever forgive Allah for making him hurt as he had? There was only one painful way to know.

With the hesitancy of a man walking to his death, Quatre turned and carried the single flame until it illuminated the words on the first piece of cloth. The title read simply:

"Aisha's Visit to the Gardens"

And there it was. Written nearly two thousand years ago, the words of the prophet Aisha, beloved wife of Muhammad, prophet of Islam. His knees grew too weak to support him and he carelessly slid to the ground beneath him.

He was no fool, forgeries were common in all religions, including Islam. But there was something here, a…presence that seemed to float about the objects. It spoke softly to him, whispering words he could not hear or understand.

As an empath, he'd been both blessed and cursed with the ability to sense emotions from people. In the case of something very old or cherished, he sometimes caught lingering glimpses of the emotions once felt in the objects existence. This was no different, and as Quatre stared blankly into nothing, he felt the emotions of those objects flow over his senses, touching a part of him he couldn't remember ever having been touched before, hope.

Images were not in the range of his abilities, but he felt his heart swell with emotions of acceptance and faith. The release of fear was overpowering, and he realized that many had knelt where he was now, knelt and given thanks that Allah had not forsaken them after all. He felt joy at not being alone, happiness at having a family now, and acceptance of Allah's will.

Then, in a moment of strange crystal clarity, he felt Aisha, as she had felt two thousand years before retelling her tale of the angel's visit and Allah's words of salvation. She had been awed, with a feeling of having been filled by the teachings of Allah herself. Happiness seemed to cascade over him, and somehow he knew it was her happiness at seeing those first one hundred men accepted by Allah. A great sadness was also there, as she'd thought about her dead husband, and prayed that Allah kept him safe as he waited with the rest of humanity for the Day of Judgment. And wonder, would others be saved by these new laws one day? Would someone look at these objects and think of her as she was right that moment?

He gasped, reeling back as he was thrown out of his trance like state. He didn't need days or weeks to realize this chapter was real, he felt it on a level few could boast. It seeped into his veins, flowing through him like blood and water. It was all true, not a word misspoken. Everything was different now.

He was Quatre of the Maguanacs, Recruit to Rashid of the Maguanacs. He was Allah's servant, defender of Islam and those that could not defend themselves. He was the protector of families and worshiper of the one true God. He was who he was, just as Allah is who He is.

He didn't need to read the text on the objects, he knew it all by heart now, the words burned into his brain as he'd felt Aisha's emotions. Every word, every detail of the script was now memory to him, and if he closed his eyes he could see it as if they were open and in the hot sun of Arabia.

Standing slowly, Quatre took the candle and placed it back in its place. Without a look back towards the objects of his salvation, Quatre moved forward, into the darkness to be reborn into the light.

Rashid opened the door at his knock.

Stepping into the brightly lit in comparison room of the mosque, he moved as if possessed, stepping past Rashid's questioning look and beyond Abdule's concerned expression; around the right side of the black cube, until he was standing directly in front of it.

His eyes failed to see that the entire Jihad army was now present, standing in lines that faced the giant symbol of their faith. Quatre did not see them, nor would he have cared if he had; his journey was his own. He passed Master Habsaba as he stood in front of the men, all watching Quatre as he moved without consideration or care.

In the end, he stood in front of the great monument, Rashid and Abdule next to Habsaba, concerned expressions on all the faces in the mosque. Quatre's mind raced with everything he now knew, now understood on a level so much deeper than mind, it touched his soul. With empty eyes he looked up to the top of the black stone construct, before following a straight line back down to where it touched the ground.

It was silent. And for a moment, in that silence Quatre stood, staring at the center of the ka'aba. Until finally, the silence was shattered.

Wails of pure suffering, terror, pain, and horror issued from his lips. From his lungs and body came the agony of a lifetime spent in fear and abandonment. His loneliness fell from him in great sobs that shook his body until he could no longer stand. The rage of his father wavered his voice as he called out the ninety-nine names of God in Arabic, name after name falling in a rush between sobs. The silence of his mind fell away as his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fingers, drawing blood that fell upon his clothes. Tears falling from his eyes, washing away the hurts and aches of his weary bones. 

And then, right before Rashid's racing form caught him up and took him into his protecting arms, Quatre screamed for the death of the boy who he'd been, and screamed for the man that he was now to become. Death and life, both directed by Allah and Allah alone. 

At the first touch of Rashid's person to his own, Quatre surcame to the emotional exhaustion encompassing him, letting the darkness of death enclose him, knowing, Allah had granted him true life, and all he needed to do was open his eyes to finally begin to live.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When he awoke, he was surprised to feel once again warm. Taking a deep breath Quatre allowed his eyes to open slowly, reveling in the unnatural sense of safety he felt. He was warm, content, and finally, safe.

His eyes drifted shut again as the memories of his time in the mosque came back to him. Such peace pervaded him, soaking into him even now to fill the empty void he'd been before this divine revelation. He was not forsaken, he was loved, needed even by his God. Allah had created him to be here, to shelter those that needed protection. Allah had not condemned him, no, instead He had created a special place for him as a defender of nations.

Joy invaded his senses and he held back a sob at the warm feeling of acceptance. He was not alone, never alone. Allah was with him, always had been, and Quatre knew that now in this place, he would find some sense of family.

Family.

That one word had struck fear into his heart for as long as he could remember. His father's face or his sisters' bitter and cruel words of contempt haunted his nightmares, casting him into confusion as to Allah's wishes for him. He knew from the text that Rashid was now to become some type of family to him, but while he knew the words of Aisha's chapter by heart, he did not know what they entirely meant. And still another part of him knew it would not be that easy.

He'd spent the better part of his memory in pain, solitude, or both. On the satellite, he'd studied as a way of keeping himself busy and human psychology had been one of his favorite subjects. He'd read about the illegal colonial experiments in isolation, placing young subjects alone in outer space for long periods of time and then watching them reintegrate into society. It was a long process, usually resulting in the patients being unable to conform to new situations and committing suicide. They were horrible experiments and yet Quatre knew he would be like them. Already he felt the strain of so many people around him, the fear of not doing the correct thing because he simply did not know what the correct thing was. Fear of saying the wrong thing or even speaking at the wrong times.

As far as textbooks went, he knew the words people wished to hear. When they were sad they wanted comfort, when happy they wanted someone to share it with. But he knew he didn't have the words inside of him, didn't know them but for reading them. They were not second nature as they were to many, they were not words he felt or knew how to feel. He'd have to learn them and that frightened him like nothing else.

Then there were his abilities. Dozens of emotions pressed upon him even now and that pressure pushed against his chest to rest on his heart. Emotions that were not his own invaded his senses and he had to struggle to decipher his own from theirs.

Long ago, empaths had been treated like gifted people. They were thought to posses a gift to touch people's lives, and indeed they had. Empaths became doctors and comforted the sick and dying, teachers to ease a child's fears, and counselors to better help those that couldn't help themselves. But those people were gone now, replaced by fearful individuals that had no training or understanding of their gifts except to hide them.

Growing up, Quatre had hidden his well, pretending the screaming coming from his mouth was from the pain instead the absorption of his "reprogrammer's" emotions. Even now, the hate he'd felt all those years ago still threatened to overwhelm him and he shivered at the thought even though he was warm.

What would he do? How would he conform to this new and strange place where men played two roles and existed to serve Allah alone? How would he ever manage to be the student Rashid would expect, strong and capable in matters of warfare? He was who he was, a broken boy that feared he'd never allow anyone close enough to make him really not alone.

Suddenly, something that had not caught his attention in his waking moments now did. A deep thumping sounded in his ears. He was curled on his left side, curled into a soft warm pillow, which seemed to be…thumping?

Curious about this strange place already, Quatre slowly eased his head up, turning it from facing one wall to look upwards. His eyes fell upon Rashid's sleeping face.

He tried not to panic, tried to calm his breathing so that he would not pass-out. Against his wishes his body tenses, every muscle going ridged. His eyes went wide in some mixture of fear and wonder. The shaking he knew would come finally did and as his muscles quaked under the stress, he heard Rashid grumble deep in his chest, before tightening this arms about Quatre—arms Quatre had not known were there.

With ever fiber of his being Quatre tried not to panic, but as those arms tightened around him in what would have been a comforting gesture, he could not hold back the reflex. With a violent flinch he wrenched himself from Rashid's grasp and scrambled to the end of the bed. His movements dislodged the covers and his flight managed to kick the other man he had not seen behind him, Abdule.

Terror at having been touched in any way without his permission flooded his senses and he was too caught up in that fear to notices Abdule's yelp of surprise or Rashid as he sat up, completely alert.

He was afraid, terrified! To know that someone might have touched him or was simply close to him, was too much for his isolated mentality to wrap itself around. Touch brought pain, it always did, always. He tried to reason with himself, that even as he'd laid there this morning he'd known that he had nothing to fear but his own mind. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the fear, of any physical contact, any at all, the terror in his own mind.

Rashid's deep soothing voice did little to help his shaking body.

"It is alright, Quatre. You are not hurt."

With wild movements he nodded his head in agreement. He wasn't hurt, he wasn't, but the terror was there none the less.

Rashid took a deep breath while Abdule gave a half groan.

"I thought the kid was going into another seizure like last night."

Through his fear, Quatre regarded the man that had spoken and Abdule smiled sheepishly.

"Hey, Quatre, you scared the crap out of all of us yesterday. We had no idea what was going on. Rashid took you to the infirmary and Wufei looked you over, but no one knew what was wrong. We tried waking you up but you just kept on sleeping. Finally Wufei said to hell with it and just sent you home. The guys'll be relieved to know that you woke up in such a…enthusiastic manner." The man gave a wink with his devil eyes and Quatre found himself oddly comforted by the man's easy way of speaking to him.

Slowly the shaking stopped, very slowly. By then the two men were both sitting up, their backs pressed again the ornate headboard. Abdule sat with his hands fidgeting constantly, glancing back and forth between himself and Rashid. However, Rashid stood stilly, regarding Quatre with patience and understanding, waiting for him to make the first move.

When it seemed that Quatre would not or could not, Rashid finally did.

"Are you hungry, Quatre?"

Such a simple question and Quatre knew immediately that he was. But what should he say? What was the right thing? Did he agree and get fed or did he agree and have it held over him like some reward for performing tricks. People could be cruel and while Rashid and Abdule seemed kind, Quatre had been tricked before. A part of him knew that he was being suspicious unjustly to protect himself but he dared not take the chance. As much as he trusted in Allah's words, humans had free choice.

Unbidden, his stomach betrayed him, rumbling loudly in the silent room. 

It started out as a tiny sound before growing into snickers. Then in a rush of abandon, Abdule broke out into hearty laughs that shook the bed.

"Quatre! Oh, kid, that was priceless, I don't think you could have planned that better! Your stomach deserves some kind of academy award or something, that was perfect timing!" Abdule continued to laugh and Quatre felt an immediate sense of ease. Something just felt right about this man, a kinship that Quatre had never known. He barely noticed when his muscles began to relax.

Rashid's voice was again deep and yet this time, Quatre did not tense at the sound.

"You may always tell us if you need anything, Quatre. If you are hungry, say so, thirsty, you have but to ask. Until you become aware of where everything is we will help you in any way we can."

He found himself nodding silently.

He was greatly surprised when Rashid turned to Abdule and said simply. "I will prepare him something to eat. We will come and get you when we are finished."

"Fine! Just send a guy out on his naked ass without a shower or a decent breakfast!" Then more seriously, "I'll be hanging around the camps, they've taken me off for the rest of the week. I'll probably be with Auda, on the south side." Rashid nodded his head, and then Abdule turned to look at him. "Quatre, listen, I've gotta go, but you and Rashid will come and find me later, and we'll get to know each other. I know this is all scary for you but try to remember what you can of what you read yesterday. Rashid won't hurt you, would never even consider it, even if he does look like he could bench-press a mobile suit. Just try to remain calm and really listen, that's the best advice I can give you; listen, and Rashid will explain everything."

With that, Abdule shifted out of the bed and Quatre turned away quickly as he realized Abdule was very much naked. He felt his face flame but kept his eyes downcast to hide it. He heard what must have been Abdule dressing before he saw a hand push the bed down next to his cotton-covered leg, he flinched in response to the close contact.

"Try not to worry. Rashid taught me and I think he's one of—if not—the best. He's patient and kind and you'll learn that he loves without needing love back. Trust his words, and perhaps when we see each other again, you'll feel less vulnerable." Quatre looked up to see the soft smile turn mischievous. "Though how you feel vulnerable when you're the only one wearing any pants is beyond me." A quick wink at Quatre's stunned expression and the thin man was gone, leaving the bedroom for the camps outside.

For a moment, Quatre analyzed what he knew already. He was alone, well, alone in the sense that he was the only one with Rashid. He knew half of the lay out of this apartment but not well enough if he had to formulate an escape. He knew how to find the door to the hallway, and after Rashid's presentation, he knew how to get out to the camps. What good would that really do him though?

Taking a shaky breath he turned to regard his Teacher.

Rashid sat as he had so far, cool and collect, at ease with the situation or so it seemed. His eyes watched Quatre carefully and the boy wasn't sure how to accept the scrutiny. The giant's chest was bare, and Quatre avoided looking at it like the plague. Intellectually he knew about Aisha's chapter but that didn't erase the years of torment he'd been put through.

"Are you hungry, Quatre?" His voice startled Quatre in the silence and he tensed for a moment again. He was slightly annoyed that this man would ask him a question he already knew the answer to. But as Quatre refused to say anything, it became increasingly apparent that Rashid would wait for an answer for as long as it took coming.

Refusing to bend all the way, he nodded his head shallowly.

"Good. Then we will shower, dress, pray, and then eat. We will discuss your questions and the rules after you have eaten."

Shower? A real shower? It'd been a long time since he'd had one of those. It might even be with warm water.

Unbeknownst to him, an upturn of lips altered his face into a more receptive outlook and Rashid offered a returning smile.

Moving in a relaxed pace, as if it were natural for him to rise naked from the bed in front of a stranger, Rashid moved across the room to the left, releasing the door Quatre had not seen earlier.

He tried not to stare, tried not to look. But to ignore was almost impossible, and as Quatre quickly threw his eyes to the floor he felt a wave of awe at the body of the great giant. His skin flushed for the second time that morning and he wondered briefly if all men slept naked.

"Quatre?" He looked up before quickly remembering that Rashid was unclothed and then looked away. A deep chuckle sounded from him. "Here." A blanked was lifted off of a waiting shelf and placed quickly around Rashid's waist. "Will this make you more comfortable?"

Embarrassed by what he considered his ineptitude in human behavior, Quatre nodded quickly before rising and moving to the now opened door of the bathroom.

Inside was warm as heat lamps lit the air in sunshine orange. The colors were white and blue, and furs from some white animal lay on the tile in strategic places. The fixtures were made of gold and crystal instead of steel and glass, while the tile could have been some kind of marble like the counters. The walls were a pale blue that seemed to make the room feel warmer than it already was.

But the masterpieces were in the corners to the left of the door. Against the left wall was a massive sunken tub. Large and cut from white marble, the spouts were of gold, with what looked like diamonds at their centers. It looked big enough to fit Rashid easily and perhaps someone else as well. On the right wall however was what Quatre craved most. The shower was massive, taking up half the wall, with three water heads, one on each wall save the crystal cut door. It looked inviting and warm and Quatre shivered in anticipation of the water on his filthy skin.

Behind him, Rashid spoke. "Islam teaches that it is better to give to the poor than to take in such extravagant finery. But this bathroom, and indeed nearly the entire colony save the camps, was constructed prior to the Maguanacs arrival. This colony was built on Earth by people of the Islamic nations who had just learned they'd been being protected for nearly two thousand years by men they had not compensated. This was to atone their spirits. For nearly two hundred years old, I would say they were worth the extravagant prices in their durability." There was humor in the man's voice and Quatre found himself nodding his understanding.

Rashid moved silently then, walking over to the shower and turning it on until the room began to fill with steam. His hand reached into the water, until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he turned back and looked at Quatre quizzically for a moment before smiling and stepping aside.

"There is another shower. I will use that one until you are more comfortable with me. There is soap and other things inside, feel free to use whatever you want and as much as you like. I doubt it will happen but do not concern yourself if something runs out, it can be replaced without worry. Also, take as long as you like, something tells me you will enjoy the time to think."

Think? He didn't plan on doing much thinking, more like weeping at the pure pleasure of it. Basins of water were all he could spare on the satellite as he only had enough water to drink. Soap was a luxury, and was something his father would give him only if Quatre begged. Now, to take a warm shower, to use as much of everything as he'd like…it was almost too much to fathom.

He nodded to Rashid and moved towards the shower as the man moved to stand by the door.

"I am sorry we have not yet gotten you a change of clothes. The clothing you came in with was destroyed, though it appeared it did not fit you properly." There was a hanging question there, which Quatre chose to ignore. Rashid continued. "Abdule and I will take you to the shop computer later so that you may pick some of your own things, including clothing. Will you be alright?"

Unaccustomed to having anyone care one way or another about him, he did not respond. Rashid seemed to understand. "I will be in the prayer room when you are finished. You do not need to knock, only enter." To this Quatre nodded, and then Rashid was gone, leaving Quatre to turn quickly.

Ripping his pants off, he was mildly surprised to find they were all he was wearing before abandoning the concern for the temptation of water.

It fell on him like angels' cleansing tears, washing away the remaining tension from his taxed muscles. He breathed in the steam deeply, letting it cleanse his lungs. Running his hands through his hair he felt the water slip through the strands to touch his scalp and nearly cooed with the pleasure. Vigorously he ran his hands over his body, doing what he always did to try to cleanse as much off of him as he could.

He watched fascinated as his skin grew red from the heat instead of blue as it usually did when he bathed. Warmth pervaded him and he scrubbed at his face when the water entered his eyes.

He stood there for a long time, longer than he could remember standing under the pressure of water. He ached to cry out with relief, that this is what life should have been like for him. But he quickly caught himself, recognizing Allah's plan as not his to question. He turned in the spray of three spouts to the wall. In an alcove sat beautiful mosaic jars. When he opened them, the rich scent of what he thought was sandalwood filled the heated air.

Taking the shampoo, he lathered his hair as best he could, noting with embarrassment that the grease prevented it from bubbling. Three times he lathered and rinsed before he deemed his hair sufficiently washed. He hoped others would think that way as well.

Next came the soap, again a rich sandalwood that clung to his skin after being rinsed away. There was another jar there, and curiously Quatre opened it. A white substance was inside, thicker than the shampoo but it left a soft feeling on his skin when he washed it from his fingertips. Choosing to close the jar instead of to use it, Quatre returned it to the shelf before reluctantly shutting the water down.

For a long moment he just stood there, marveling at the warmth all around him instead of the bitter chill of cold. Finally he shook it off and stepped out of the shower. A towel was placed on the floor where it hadn't been when he'd entered the shower, a pair of white pants folded neatly under it. A note lay on top, its script exact, as if done by a computer.

"Quatre, The pants are old but should work, they once belonged to Abdule. They will be big but will tide you over. R."

Rashid had entered while he'd been in the shower, perhaps even seen him naked. A sudden fear gripped his heart before he squelched it. He was clean and now had a means of drying himself and not dirtying his body again. He'd take the kindness for what he thought it must be.

Drying quickly he stepped into the pants, feeling at once naked without something underneath them. He shifted for a second, tying the string at the waist tighter to hold the material up over his hips, but it was no use. The pants were too large and they hung low, exposing the taunt skin and protruding bones of his body.

He made it to the mirror to look himself over. Deep black pits were his eyes, while his skin accented them with its snow-white paleness. His shoulder bones protruded from his arms, and he lifted them above his head to see that his ribs did the same. He was sickly thin, like the historical images of people from before the United Earth Sphere Alliance. He was hollow but now there was a hope that he might not stay like this, and so he quickly ran his fingers through his hair and exited the bathroom, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature.

Quatre left the bedroom behind him quickly, noting absently that the bed was completely made. The living room was how he remembered it, as was the kitchen. Again he hesitated by the prayer room door. Rashid had told him not to knock but he still felt as if he were intruding on the man. Squaring his shoulders he entered quietly, he was surprised when Rashid did not turn to look at him but continued to pray.

Quatre walked into the room and stood a good distance from Rashid. After a moment, as if on some strange cue, both of them began the prayer at the same time. Five movements followed, from standing to kneeling, to prostration, to kneeling, to standing. Through it all Rashid spoke the prayers while Quatre heard the words in his head, his mental voice speaking them as he wished he could, with strength and a deep voice like Rashid's.

When the prayer was over, Quatre met eyes with Rashid who smiled softly to him. Moving with reverence, Rashid draped a cloth over the Qur'an before moving to the door, Quatre followed him.

Outside, Rashid headed towards the kitchen as he spoke.

"Wufei is our doctor and has already taken a look at you as Abdule said. He is concerned about how thin you are. He wanted me to ask you if food settled well in your stomach."

Surprised by the question Quatre shrugged. "It stays down."

"Good, but does it hurt to eat? Cramps in your stomach at all?"

"I'm grateful for the food, it doesn't matter how it feels in my stomach as long as it stays." There was finality in his voice that caused Rashid to turn to look at him. Quatre had no way of deciphering the emotions on his face.

"For the time being you will drink the shakes that Wufei prescribed. When he thinks you are able, we will integrate more than toast into your diet."

He wasn't sure how he felt as Rashid moved to create the drink. He'd just basically been told what he could and could not do, and that settled badly on his self-sufficient spirit. But he was a stranger in a strange land, and the text in Aisha's chapter spoke of honoring Rashid as his father. Quatre felt no great compassion for his father but Rashid had not tried to hurt him yet and for the time being he reasoned to go along with what the man said.

A glass with a white mixture was placed on the counter close to him and Rashid nodded at it. "Drink. All of it."

He gave no response but brought the glass to his lips and drank slowly. It was terrible, an odd taste of chalk and dirt. But he schooled his face to show no emotion as he continued to choke down the liquid and solid chunks.

Suddenly, Rashid took the glass from his hand. Startled by the suddenness of it, he stepped back and away from the man, letting the glass go in a reflex. Rashid's quick movements prevent a spill but the man turned quickly and dumped the offensive drink down the drain anyway.

Terrified that Rashid was somehow mad at him Quatre moved backwards until his back was pressed against the wall, his posture prepared to fly for the apartment door on a single notice.

There was no anger in Rashid's voice as he spoke calmly. "If you do not like it, Quatre, tell me and I will try to make it better. Do not suffer through it out of fear. I will not hurt you, no matter what you do or say." He turned to lock eyes with Quatre before offering another smile. "Let me see if I can make this better. Do you like nutmeg?"

Surprised, he shrugged, he'd never heard of it.

Another shake was created and this one thankfully taste more like the one he'd had the morning before. He finished it quickly before moving cautiously to set it on the counter by the sink. He knew how to care for dishes but Abdule had insisted the day before and he didn't know the proper course of action. But Rashid only nodded, finishing off his toast and jam before taking Quatre's cup and washing it out.

"Quatre, take a seat in the living room. I will be there shortly."

Without nodding, he moved into the other room, thankful to be away from the huge man. He sat at first on the couch where he'd been the day before but quickly remembered the feeling of entrapment before moving to a single chair to the couch's right.

Turning back to the kitchen, he watched Rashid as he moved around, putting things back with minimal care. Quatre studied him, watched the way the large muscles in his back moved as he shifted his arms. Rashid was well over six and a half feet and stood closer to seven if the ceiling was any indication. He was wide, with wide shoulders that followed his torso straight down to his hips. He wasn't fat, not at all, built; and from the view this morning, Quatre knew it was all large muscle. His legs were incased in a pair of dark red, almost black pants that accented the tanned complexion of his entire body. He wore no shoes and Quatre noted that even his feet were tan. His chest was excellently defined and broad, the expanse of it learned as he'd slept against it two nights in a row. There was hair on his chest but it was soft Quatre remembered, the color of wet desert sand. The hair on his head was the same color and Quatre noticed it was still damp from the morning shower.

As Rashid turned around and entered the living room, Quatre ducked his head only to look back up and into a knowing face. The man sat where Quatre had been the day before closest to the chair he'd backed himself into.

"I need for you to understand a few things, Quatre. Some of them are Allah's words and some are things the Maguanacs have found work best when teaching Recruits. Some will make sense and others may make you angry or fearful. Understand this, everything that is done is for your best interest. I meant what I said when I told you I would no more hurt you than my own family. You are like both student and son to me now. Those are Allah's words. As Teacher it is my duty to show you what it means to be a Maguanac, to serve Allah's will. But in the role of a parent, it is to teach you the things all fathers should teach their sons.

"Let us begin with what will happen soon. It is customary for a new Recruit to spend the first seven days with his Teacher. This is a time of familiarizing yourself with me and myself with you. During this week Recruits learn what is expected of them and most begin to at least become less fearful of their new surroundings. This time usually takes place in the camps but I have chose to live here rather than the camps. To a certain extent this will handicap you. There is a potential for you to not get the interaction with the other men that you will need, but I think you will agree that the less people around you now, the more comfortable you will be."

Quatre nodded his head quickly; he did not want to be surrounded by anymore emotions than he already was.

"I thought as much. It may be harder for you later, but with Abdule here you will have someone besides me to talk to as well.

"After this week, you will be taken before the council of elders. They will decide where best your talents will be directed. Every Maguanac is taught the basics of warfare, how to be a soldier or repair equipment. But along with that is specialized training. For example, Abdule has been trained as a soldier but he specializes as a engineer, repairing equipment and generally making sure everything works. I was trained as a strategists and leader. The council decided early on that it would be my role to direct the men. When the decision is made, you will begin light instruction. You will go to classes to finish out your education, as it is important for everyone to know the world they live in. Following this you will work with the other remaining Recruits in general soldier lessons. Finally, you will study with those in your specialty. As you grow you will learn more, but for the first year your curriculum is light, your lessons lasting only half the day. Your most important lesson during this first year is to learn that you are part of a family. Everyone here is father and brother to you, Quatre, you do not need to ever fear them.

"I will help you in anyway I can and you will be expected to come to me if you need help or someone to talk to. You can of course seek both of these things from others, especially Abdule, but through our discussions I think you will find yourself coming to me.

"This leads into Allah's notion of a Teacher as a father figure. I will never be your father, Quatre. After witnessing his dishonorable display in the Great Hall, I am sure you will find some measure of comfort in that. But for the next eleven years—the time it takes for you to become a full Maguanac—I am the closest comparison. As Allah wrote, my word is to be obeyed and respect is expected. In return, I will teach you the things your father should have. What it is to be a man and all the things that entails. Do you understand?"

Slowly he thought over Rashid's words. This giant man before him would be like a father to him and Quatre had already sensed Rashid's kindness. But that didn't mean anything. His father had been kind to his sisters and cruel to him. What if Abdule usurped all of Rashid's kindness and left him with only the bitterness or if his and Abdule's roles were switched, he didn't wish suffering on anyone. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking on all that he knew of Rashid and sensed from him now.

Calm, this man before him was naturally calm--a soothing personality. There was little anger in him, and yet Quatre had to wonder if when enraged, Rashid was prone to violence. But what choice did he really have? He couldn't refuse the man, where would he go instead? He'd been given a cruel father in his past life as Quatre Winner, Rashid could not be worse than he had been.

His nod was sure, strong. He understood and accepted the terms.

Rashid nodded as well. "Then there is one other important matter to discuss. You read the Qur'an and know that Allah willed his defenders to know Him through each other. In blatant terms He has given His blessings on our sexual preferences. Muslim fathers teach their son's how to give pleasure to their wives, but that is not a possible case here. It has been decided through tradition and a passage of Aisha's chapter that Teachers will initiate their Recruits into this desired but often fearful sexual experience.

"I can tell by your breathing that I have frightened you." And indeed, Quatre was nearly shaking again, his breathing deep and stressed as he fearfully awaited Rashid's next words.

"Put your fear behind you, Quatre. The world outside this sanctuary is not the same as the one inside. No one will force you into anything, ever! Allah's words were thus:

"Let Teacher teach Recruit to be man and lover in all ways, so that the Recruit is knowledgeable and without fear.

"But he also said this as well:

"Let no man take another without his permission for all My people are respected. He who does this among you is to be killed without mercy, needing only the word of the victim against him."

"Do you understand? No one will ever take you against your will, and as reassurance to you, if they do, you need no witnesses to have him killed. It is the only offence in the Maguanacs that is punishable by death except treason, and it is the only one that does not require at least two witnesses. It is my duty to show you what Allah wished for you to know but that is not something that will happen now or soon.

"I have watched you, Quatre, and you are opposed to even me sitting this close to you. You fear touch and a part of me is afraid to find out what was done to you in the past. I would never, ever dare touch you now in a sexual way. You are too hurt and vulnerable at this time. But in the future, when I think you are ready, I will question you about it. Right now you are probably thinking you will never agree but eleven years is a long time, plenty of time for you to decide on your own."

His voice was halted as he spoke, fear still coursing through him.

"Am I…not to act as your son?" Rashid nodded. "Then…if you command it…I have no choice…" His sentence hung open, he couldn't finish it. Tears threatened his eyes and he turned away from Rashid, away from the man that he had agreed could rule his life.

"No, Quatre!" Suddenly, Rashid was before him, kneeling at his feet but still taller than he was. "Perhaps you were never taught this, but Allah gave his people the ability to refuse their elders when their requests contradicted the Qur'an. If I were to command you to submit, you could refuse me because I'd asked you to give up your rights as Allah granted them. There is never, and will never, be a reason for you to ever be taken against your will, ever! If you fear everything else, do not fear this. I will never force myself on you, Quatre. If you do not or cannot believe me, then talk with Abdule, he has been my Recruit for the last ten years, he will tell you I am a man of honor."

He was shaken, having Rashid so close to him, the emotions of the man battering against his defenses. But it was not an entirely horrible thing, as those emotions spoke the truth of Rashid's words. Quatre felt the tension that had again seeped into his body slowly leave; Rashid noted it as well.

"It is true that I will expect you to do things you might not want to or even are afraid to do. In my role as Teacher I must push you sometimes, but I do it only because I know you are capable of it. I will tell you now that Abdule and I will be spending time with you so that you become more comfortable with us. This will include he and I touching you when appropriate. I know you are weary of touch, but you do not have to be, and it will be my responsibility to make you understand that through example. A touch of the arm or invasion of this wide amount of personal space you crave will be part of it; but the hardest thing will be our sleeping arrangements.

"I have no intention of allowing you to sleep on your own. The way it has been since you got here will be the way it will remain. You will sleep between Abdule and I or at least next to me every night. I can see you dislike the idea but that is a concession you will have to learn. I will try to make other adjustments easier but this one I will not bend on."

Allah, was he afraid. Tremors now raced under his skin and he shook with the implications of Rashid's words. He believed that the man would not force him and even believed that Abdule would not either. But to sleep with them, to feel arms around him as they had been that very morning, he wasn't sure he could do it.

"W-what…if I can't?"

"Quatre." He looked up. "You can and you will. It is a matter of trust and you will have to learn to trust us."

Again, not knowing what else to do, Quatre nodded.

"One more thing before we get Abdule from the camps. I found that with Abdule, I overestimated his abilities once. An example is in order.

"Perhaps six months after I took Abdule as Recruit, I made a bad decision. Like you, Abdule did not like to be touched, but after six months he was beginning to allow longer touches and even the occasional hug. I thought it was time to test his abilities so I took him into my arms and refused to let him go. For a moment he was calm and then when he found he could not move he panicked. It was one of the worst things I have ever done to another human and I fear I will always regret it. But after twenty minutes, Abdule became too exhausted from his struggles and simply gave up. At that point I thought he had benefited, I was wrong, very, very wrong."

There was such a profound sadness in Rashid, his soul ached with the memory of what he was telling Quatre now.

"I put him to bed, and the next day after lessons, I could not find him. Everyone was searching for him by nightfall but no one could find him anywhere. By then I had realized my mistake. If I touched Abdule for too long in the past he would often tell me to stop, sometimes violently. I had not been able to hear the difference in his need.

"We finally found him huddled in the back corner of the ka'aba. He came when I called him to me but there was terror in his eyes, and…it was the most painful experience of my life.

"It took me nearly six months to undo the damage I had caused; six months where Abdule was frightened. I implemented the system I am about to with you, but he did not trust it until he tested it. Things were better then, got steadily better after that, but I berate myself everyday knowing I caused him unnecessary pain because I could not tell the difference.

"I am telling you this so you understand, even though it may cause you to fear me—"

"No, I…don't fear you." He'd said 'no' before he caught himself, the word slipping past his lips. It startled him as much as Rashid, but the man simply nodded before continuing.

"It is called a safe word. A word that will let me know that the task I have set before you is too much for you to handle. It is a word you will speak if the feelings you have are not ones of fear, but terror; something you say not because you do not want to do something or try, but because the very thought of it freezes you in place. If I asked you to take something into the bedroom, it would not be appropriate to use the word; however, if I asked you to strip and run singing into the camps, it would be."

Quatre offered a small smile at the joke.

"The word is, _hijab_, which are the veils women used to wear to cover themselves on Earth. You have but to say it once and I will reconsider very carefully what it is I am asking of you. This is the same word I used with Abdule, so he will understand if you say it also"

Quatre committed the word to memory before asking the question he wasn't sure he had a right to.

"What was it…that Abdule said the word for?"

Rashid smiled and offered a hearty laugh. "He asked me to kill a spider that had come in on some cargo. I told him to kill it himself and he screamed the word as he was running away from the advancing thing. We do not get many spiders here but they reduce Abdule to a weeping mess."

Quatre cast his eyes down as he smiled thinking about Abdule running away from a spider.

"Quatre?" He looked up. "Do you truly think you can follow these rules?"

He thought about it for only a second before answering.

"I will try…Rashid."

Hearing his name spoken for the first time, Rashid smiled to himself as he stood, his hand outstretched.

"I will give you a hand up, and then let go. Take my hand."

His heart stopped. "I-I can—"

"Take my hand, Quatre."

His first test, would he fail?

With shaking fingers, he placed his hand lightly into Rashid's as the man kept his hand opened and lifted up, Quatre's hand ghosting his as he stood on his own. The minute he stood, Rashid removed his hand.

Quatre was startled as he felt his bangs move across his forehead. Rashid's fingers not touching his skin.

"Good, Quatre. Very good. Let us collect Abdule."

He nodded, and together they left the apartment, the Recruit silently keeping step with his Teacher.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

At the door to the camp, Quatre hesitated. He wanted so much to be what was expected of him, but he knew the moment he walked beyond these doors he'd be a terrible mess. Part of him trusted Rashid on a level he wasn't sure he could comprehend if he tried. The man was so different from anyone else Quatre had ever known, and it both worried and strengthened him.

"Quatre, are you alright?" Rashid was looking down at him in concern and Quatre ached to stop this man from worrying about him, he just wasn't used to it.

"I-its…there're a lot of…people in there." His voice was quiet as he responded to Rashid, knowing the man expected an answer.

Rashid nodded absently. "Yes, but you do not need to fear any of them. I told you, no one here will harm you."

Quatre quickly nodded his agreement, he trusted in Rashid to keep the men from him, under any circumstance. But how could he explain to this man about his abilities. He knew that Rashid already knew of them, but still, to throw himself to the lions was far more than he was comfortable doing.

"T-there are just a lot of them…thinking at once…" He left his sentence hanging open and hoped Rashid would understand.

"And feeling. Yesterday, as we walked through the camps did you feel their emotions?" The question was spoken without condemnation and Quatre thought it safe to answer truthfully.

"Not individually…group thoughts…it's…painful."

"Painful to be around so many people?"

He nodded, afraid what this would do to Rashid's plans for him. He didn't need to worry.

"I want you to become more comfortable with people, it is important for you as a person and as a Maguanac, but I understand if this is not something you can do right now. Will you be all right if you stay here? I will return with Abdule shortly. If not, I will take you back to—"

Happy with the decision, and not wanting to press his luck further, Quatre quickly agreed.

"I can stay."

Rashid looked torn for a moment before nodding once, telling him to stay right here, and then exiting, leaving Quatre alone for a moment.

He took a deep breath, the weight of pleasing Rashid taken from him for a moment. He knew that Rashid would return shortly, but it was nice to be alone for a second to just breathe.

It didn't last long.

Suddenly the door swooshed open and three boys not that much older than himself ambled through, two of them locked together at the mouth and hip.

"I can't believe you're doing this in front of me! The two of you are just damn cruel you know that! I'm tempted to just throw cold water on you both!" A boy with a long braid yelled, obviously annoyed by the locked lips of his companions, not to mention the slight gyration of their hips together.

Stunned by this very public display, Quatre squeaked before pushing himself against the wall, his eyes searching for an escape.

His sound caught their attention and before his eyes the boy with the shaggy dark brown hair and the Chinese boy broke apart, all at the same time the braided boy invaded his immediate personal space.

"Hey! You're Quatre, right? I'm Duo, this here's Heero, and that's Wufei. They're being bastards right now so just ignore them. What're you doing out here?"

Quatre looked fearfully at the boy before him, and then the shaggy brunet called Heero, before turning to glance quickly that the Chinese boy, Wufei. He didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. He was frightened, the shaking returning once again to his limbs as the braided boy looked on in horror.

"Oh, hey now! Um, it's ok. Look see, they're not really bastards, just jerks. Oh, come on kid, it's alright." Quatre saw the hand before it touched him. He was beginning to think that people all over the world just touched each other at random!

In an instinctive reaction, he swung around so he was facing the wall, covering himself from the attack he expected any moment.

"What?!"

"Duo, move away from him slowly, you've scared him." The voice was a deep monotone, but there was a sense of command in it that Quatre responded too against his will. Sinking to his knees, he huddled against the wall, the shaking continuing against his will.

"Heero! I didn't do anything, I swear it! I just said 'hi' and the kid went nuts! I didn't even touch him!"

"Duo, calm down!" This voice was different, softer than the first, but commanding all the same. "Something that you did scared him. It's not your fault, but keep your distance. Heero, run down to Rashid's and get him. I don't know how Quatre wandered out here but we need to get him to Rashid."

"Hai!" There was the sound of running footsteps on metal plating boards before Quatre felt a presence very close to him.

"Quatre, my name is Wufei, I am a doctor. You do not have to be afraid. Duo didn't mean to frighten you, he was only saying hello."

Hello?! That couldn't be possible, the boy had tried to touch him! He didn't even know this boy and he'd tried to touch him! But he did nothing, just continued to shake soundlessly in his corner space.

"Yeah, Quatre, I can be such a baka sometimes. Really! I'm sorry I freaked you out. Look, why don't you…um, stop shaking and I'll get you a soda!"

He heard what sounded like someone hitting someone else.

"Fei, what was that for?!"

"What is it with you and your stomach! Not everyone is ruled by their hungers like you are!"

A husky tone entered Duo's voice. "But I thought you liked it when I was ruled by my hungers."

What were these guys talking about, and why were they doing it so close to him!? He wanted to scream at them to get away from him, that they were too close, that he didn't like it. He wanted to call out the safe word he'd just learned, but Rashid was gone, leaving him alone, and that terrified Quatre to the point where he was silently praying for the giant's return.

Loud, running footsteps were his only answer.

"Rashid's not there and neither is Abdule." Heero's breath was not even slightly winded even though he'd just run both ways down the corridor.

Wufei spoke something in Chinese. "Well, we can't move him and we can't leave him here."

"Maybe if we coax him out, you know, like slap our legs and call him a good boy."

"Duo! He's not a dog!"

"Hey, it works on you, Heero!"

A growl was his only response.

The shaking hadn't stopped or subsided and now with all three of them there Quatre felt even more helpless than he had before. And it only got worse.

"Heero?" The new voice was soft and gentle, a breathy voice that spoke of softness and a hidden strength.

"Zechs. It's Quatre. We found him in the hallway and when Duo tried to talk to him, he got frightened." The words were spoken in a rush, as if the boy was glad to relate the tale to this new person, relieved that he'd come to take care of him and the thing he couldn't handle.

"Dragon? What's going on?" Another new voice, this one airy as well, but with a definite note of aristocracy.

"Just as Heero said. Rashid and Abdule are not in their apartment and Quatre is extremely frightened. He's curled in on himself." There was a new sound to Wufei's voice to and Quatre noted that it had also been in Heero's as well. Relief was there, yes, but so was this new tone, the sound of the boys talking to someone they trusted, respected, and expected to make things better.

"Treize, I didn't do anything! I just said 'Hi' to him, and he flipped! I reached out to him and the next thing I knew he was freaking out and then just sank to the floor! I didn't even get a chance to tease him!"

The air around him moved slightly, and he knew if he looked up, he'd be looking at the man identified as Treize.

"Quatre, my name is Treize, second general of the Maguanacs. Can you tell me if you are alright?"

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, the terror of having so many around him closed off his throat and refused to let air in or out. His shaking body taxed his limited energies, until he felt like crying in frustration. They were too close and he just knew if they tried to touch him the rest of his splintered world would shatter.

"Quatre? Can you hear me?" Treize again, and some part of Quatre knew that the touch of this man's hand was coming. He tensed against it.

"Don't." The word was spoken quietly, followed by the swooshing of the door again.

Startled, he heard Zechs speak. "Trowa?"

Again, that monotone voice sounded, this one unlike Heero's in anyway. There was no emotion behind the sound, nothing at all that could be considered emotion. It was a cold and lifeless sound, one used to communicate words alone and nothing more. Hollow.

"You're too close to him. Step aside. If you touch him, he won't be able to cope."

Treize's voice sounded astonished. "Trowa, how do you know this?"

There was no reply, but Quatre saw two boots enter his huddled downcast vision, and at their stance, he felt Treize and the others move away.

At once those boots moved back as well and again he heard Trowa's voice, this time directed solely at him and filled with more emotion than he'd thought possible to the dead sound he'd heard before.

"They are away from you, Quatre. When you're ready, you can stand without fear." Every word spoke of understanding, every syllable a note of acceptance. This "Trowa" was speaking a language Quatre understood, knew because it was his own.

Slowly he looked up, the shaking still making everything vibrate to his vision.

Trowa was a boy, not much older than he was, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. A strange mass of brown hair seemed to cover half of his face, while the other half shone through. Tan skin from South American origins was flawless, and thin lips seemed to go beautifully with his face. The eye Quatre could see was the color of water submerged emeralds in the tropical sun. It was that eye that held him, the expressiveness of this boy not in his lengthy body, but his eyes, betraying emotions that Quatre read like the pages of a book.

Trowa knew him, had always known him, wanted to know him better. Compassion and kindness were there, an understanding on a deeper level than even Rashid could boast. This boy was ethereal and mortal at the same time, godly and natural to the naked eye. Locked together they stared at one another, both knowing this moment would one-day come, and neither really accepting that their search was over. They were one and the same, but different individuals and consciousnesses too. He'd missed Trowa so much and felt the answering loneliness in return.

He spoke when the shaking stopped.

"I know you."

Trowa nodded.

"How?"

Trowa shook his head, he didn't know either, maybe less than Quatre himself.

Trowa's voice was again full of emotion.

"Do you feel better?"

He nodded. "I can feel."

"So can I."

"Um, does someone want to fill the rest of us in on this creepy exchange happening here?"

Shaking his head Quatre reeled back from Trowa, blinking his eyes at the boy who seemed to be doing the same. They continued to stare at each other, neither talking nor answering the question they felt telepathically hammering against their minds by those behind them.

Absently he heard the door swoosh open yet again before startling completely at the use of his name.

"Quatre!"

He looked up quickly to find Rashid and Abdule moving to squat next to him. But the emotional and strange encounter with Trowa left him feeling numb. He didn't notice when Rashid's hand gently and lightly clasped his arm.

"Quatre are you alright?"

He nodded to the question, his eyes once again gazing at Trowa.

"Rashid, I didn't do it!" This was Duo, and the braided boy went into a tirade about what had happened. Beside him, he felt Abdule place his hand over his, only to have him snatch his own hand away, his body awakening to those around him.

"Quatre are you alright? Can you say something so I know you're ok?"

"He's fine." This came from Trowa. And then the tall boy was standing and Quatre realized he was much taller than he'd first thought. They exchanged another look that Quatre once again thought was familiar before he moved to the door and vanished from sight.

"Man, is that boy creepy."

"Duo, for once, shut up!"

"Geese, soooorrrrrrryyyyyy!"

"Quatre?" This time it was Rashid, the proud man was kneeling next to him, concern and a self-berating expression across his stricken face. Quatre didn't want that.

"I-I'm fine. Just…too many…people." He shivered involuntarily, and then suddenly felt himself lifted by the strong man. Surprised, he struggled violently, kicking and squirming at the contact, frightened at the suddenness of it. "NO! Let go!"

"Quatre, calm down." It was a command, and Quatre's flailing halted as if on his muscles' own accord. The shaking returned, but he turned his head, burying his face into Rashid's shoulder as the man spoke calmly to him as he moved towards their apartment.

"I am sorry I left you, Quatre. We will be home in a moment and then I will let you down. I am so sorry I left you."

Quatre wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault that he'd wanted to be alone for a moment but that the people's sudden appearance had frightened him in some profound way. He wanted to tell Rashid to go back and get Trowa, to bring the boy back that had somehow managed to call up those strange emotions in him. But he said nothing, allowing Rashid to carry his lifeless body back to the apartment.

Once inside, Rashid quickly set him down, and Quatre scrambled away, backing towards the couch, before sitting in the middle and drawing his knees up to his chest. The shaking was again fading, and as his brain began to work again he closed his eyes to ground himself. His voice startled Rashid, himself, and Abdule.

"I-I'm ok. It's-it's not your…fault. I just…it was just…I—"

Rashid cut him off.

"I should have never left you there, Quatre. I did not consider anyone coming through. I am sorry."

But he continued as if Rashid had not spoken, awe in his voice.

"You-you came back…for me. You…didn't leave me…alone. I'm alright."

Shock was evident on Rashid's face, but Abdule spoke happily and with much mirth.

"'Course he came back, Quatre. We'll always come for you when you need us. Rashid likes to act the part of a martyr sometimes, but he's human and screws up just like the rest of us. Glad to see that you're having such a nice morning. Want some lunch?"

Two pairs of incredulous eyes looked up at him.

"What? Quatre said he's ok, you're about two seconds from flogging yourself, and I want to eat. You know, some of us didn't get breakfast this morning. What do you say, Quatre, health shake, protein shake, or just your general, this tastes like crap shake? You're pick."

Surprised, he just nodded his head. Abdule had a way of setting him at ease while still confusing him.

"Um, well since you seem to be without decision, I'll just mix them all together. Who knows, something good just might come of it." Shrugging his shoulders, Abdule moved to the kitchen, and Quatre's eyes wandered to Rashid's slumped form by the chair he'd sat in only that morning.

He decided to try again.

"I'm not hurt."

Rashid looked at him. "I know, but you could have been."

Quatre didn't say anything to that. He decided to do something that Rashid had told him he could, both testing the waters, and trying to ease the suffering he felt in waves off the man.

"Aft-after lunch,…can…I have another shower?"

That seemed to break the spell Rashid was under, and Quatre saw Abdule turn to look at him from the kitchen.

"If you like."

Quatre just nodded his head.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"This is your room."

Rashid stood aside, revealing a room to the left of the front door. It was small, but still bigger than what Quatre was used to. It contained a bed with a comfortable looking quilt on it, a desk with a lamp and computer terminal, and an oak set of dressers. It was bare but homely, and that was all he really needed.

After lunch he had indeed taken that second shower, soaking up the warmth into his taxed muscles. Once he'd dried, he'd gone back into the living room to find Abdule sprawled out on the couch watching some science fiction show on the vid.

With nothing else to do, he'd sat in the chair he had earlier and watched with his silent companion. Abdule had been friendly during lunch and had even managed to get him to smile. He knew the smile was a disappointment to the jokes that Abdule was telling but the man took it all in stride and continued to take his smiles for what they were worth.

Somewhere in the second episode of the show, Rashid had returned and Abdule had questioned him about things Quatre didn't understand. Finally, Rashid had decided to show Quatre the rest of the apartment, leaving his room for last.

"Thank you."

"No need. Everyone needs space of their own. I have arranged for the shop computer to link to yours later tonight. Abdule will show you how to use it and you can order as much as you like." Quatre wasn't sure what a shop computer was but it sounded very strange.

Abdule piped up over Rashid's shoulder.

"Yeah! We'll buy you some clothes--clothes that fit--and some things to play with! I think our encyclopedia is like ten years old, at least that's the last copy Rashid ordered when I got here. So we'll need another one of those so you have something to study with. Oh, and some new upgrades for that terminal, I can't believe how old that computer system is. When was the last time we upgraded that stupid thing?"

Rashid shrugged. "Probably the last time you whined incessantly for it."

Abdule scoffed. "More like the last time I told you to cook yourself dinner."

Rashid laughed.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Quatre moved soundlessly across the room. Everything was clean but looked as if no one had touched anything in a long time. His hand ghosted over furniture, noting the wood was real and not synthetic as most wood products were now. As he made his way to the computer terminal, he was surprised by what he'd heard Abdule say. To everything Quatre knew, this terminal was state of the art. He wondered just how hard it would be for him to begin again in this strange new world.

Rashid spoke behind him and Quatre turned to see that he had taken Abdule under his arm, their casual manner about touching immediately making him envious.

"This used to be Abdule's room when I first took him as Recruit. I thought it was important that he have a space to call his own. But just like you, he slept with me, and while you have a bed in here, it is only if absolutely necessary."

Abdule cut in. "Or, if you decide to have a sleep over!" Quatre looked at him with absolute confusion; so did Rashid. "You never know, Quatre, you might actually have one, it's not unheard of."

Rashid rolled his eyes but Quatre continued to look confused until his curiosity got the better of him. "What is that?"

Now it was Abdule's turn to look confused."What's what?

"A…sleep over?"

Again, that sad expression stole into Abdule's eyes, and Quatre again regretted his ignorance.

"It's when you have people come over and spend the night. Usually it's a party with snacks, junk food, and bad Before Colony movies. They're a lot of fun. You'll have to have one when you get more comfortable."

Quatre nodded absently, trying to understand this strange new concept.

Suddenly, a beeping sounded and Abdule looked across Rashid to the watch that sat on his wrist wrapped about Rashid's waist.

"Oh, Quatre, it's time for another shake. Getting tired of them yet?"

He was, but at the same time he was full, something that didn't happen very often. He said nothing but walked with the men out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later he'd managed to choke down yet another shake, this one with something called cinnamon in it. He liked the nutmeg better.

"So, Quatre, what did you think of your room? We can decorate it however you'd like. I'm not sure of what you do like but we'll find something on the shop computer."

He understood the concept of decorating, he remembered vividly the layout of his childhood home; but as to how to decorate, he had no clue. Deciding it was better to spread his stupidity around than concentrate it all in one sitting, he just nodded his agreement.

Rashid had called up some music and they were happily listening to some unknown orchestra play an old piece by Mozart. Rashid asked him quietly. "Did you ever learn to play an instrument, Quatre?"

He looked at Rashid for a long moment before answering. "I play the violin."

"Still?" Abdule looked slightly surprised.

He nodded. "My father used to bring me strings if—" Quickly he snapped his mouth shut, an audible click of his teeth the finish of his sentence.

Rashid wasn't prepared to allow that. His voice was gentle but commanding. "If what, Quatre?"

He didn't want to answer. He was trying so hard to put the past behind him, so very hard. Closing his eyes he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms about his legs, holding them close to his body. For a long time he said nothing, hoping Rashid would grow tired of waiting or Abdule would change the subject. But neither one happened, and nearly five minutes later still had both men calmly waiting for a response.

Taking a deep breath, he bent.

"If…I could trade…something else for strings or resin. It was worth the trade."

"What kind of trade, Quatre?" He closed his eyes again. He knew Rashid would not like the answer. He'd been kind to him so far and Quatre knew that if he said anything Rashid would get that sad expression in his eyes, and that Abdule would offer him that sad smile. He didn't need or want their pity, that's not what he wanted at all. He just didn't know what he did want.

"Usually food or vitamins, sometimes water. It was worth it…to be able to play. I don't think so much when I play." And he didn't, losing himself in the music he created in his mind. He'd been taught to read notes as a child but over the years the knowledge had abandoned him. He hadn't needed it really, enjoying the way his fingers caressed the strings on their own. He didn't know if it could be called music but he liked it, losing himself in it, and that was really all that mattered. He forgot to be hungry when he played. Sometimes he even imagined that he heard someone else playing with him, a strange duet that calmed his soul upon hearing it. It always made him feel less lonely when the strange sensation of another player pressed upon him. But that sensation usually came towards the end of the month when he was living off scraps of rations and a cup of water a day, he usually attributed it to his delirium.

He was surprised by the words that followed his confession.

"I have never learned an instrument myself. Perhaps you could show me how to play?"

Quatre looked startled at Rashid. He'd expected the sorrowful eyes but instead Rashid had asked him to teach him how to play. He paled as he realized his inadequacies.

"I-I don't know how to read music. I couldn't show you."

But Rashid was undaunted.

"Perhaps the basics then?"

He looked up at that. Here was a way for him to show Rashid his thanks. The man had already given him so much, Quatre felt such elation at being able to return the favor, if hardly in kind. He nodded enthusiastically and smiled softly back at Rashid's smile.

Then he thought of something.

"Abdule?" It was the first time he'd spoken the man's name towards him. Surprised, Abdule nodded. "I-I could show you to…if you wanted." His voice died quickly, not knowing enough to tell if he'd just insulted the man.

But Abdule's smiled brightened and he nodded excitedly. "Great! I was wondering how I was going to con Rashid into showing me after you'd taught him." There was a note of truth in his voice and Quatre felt some pang in his heart at its sound. Rashid heard it as well.

"Abdule," the young man looked at his Teacher. "You are not expected to tip toe around subjects, do you understand?" It was as much an apology as it was a reprimand and Abdule seemed to understand that.

"Yeah, I get it. I just don't want to horn in on your guy's bonding time. It's just a little weird to draw the line, that's all."

Feeling terrible, Quatre's first reaction was to apologize. "I-I'm sorry, Abdule."

"No, Quatre don't—"

"Both of you stop!"

At Rashid's harsh words Quatre jumped, a great gasp of air as he stiffened to attention, his only sound. Abdule too sat up straight, obviously not used to hearing Rashid speak so harshly.

The man took a deep breath before addressing them both equally.

"I do not pretend this is an easy thing for either of you. Quatre, you have no idea what to expect from either myself, Abdule, or anything else around you. And Abdule, I cannot even imagine how hard this must be for you to allow my time to be divided like this. But I will not allow either of you to ghost around each other in the hopes of not bumping into one another. You are both like brothers, and there are bound to be fights between you two, as much as tender moments. Neither one of you, from this point forward, is to try to self-sacrifice for the other, is that understood? That means Abdule, you will speak up if you want to do something; and Quatre, you will stop thinking you are some kind of burden. These things will be hard for both of you but it is now what I expect, is that understood?"

Eyes downcast at the gentle reprimand, both nodded before looking up and at each other. Abdule was the first to respond.

"I guess it's gonna be a lot harder than I thought. But I'm glad you're with us, Quatre. It'll…be nice to have a little brother." Quatre offered a weak return smile before looking timidly at Rashid.

"Good. I am glad we have settled that. Now." Without effort Rashid stood and moved across the coffee table to tower over Quatre in the other chair. "It is time for Abdule and I to find out exactly where we stand with you, Quatre."

Foreboding overwhelmed him and Quatre was hard pressed not to curl harder into himself. He didn't like the way that sounded at all.

"Quatre?" He looked up but found that Rashid was now kneeling by the chair. "Do you remember this morning when I told you that it was my job to push you?" Hesitantly, he nodded. "And do you also remember when I said it was important for you to learn that you could trust Abdule and myself?" Again he nodded. "Good. It is important for us to build trust, Quatre. You need to understand that you can come to either Abdule or myself if you need anything, anytime or anywhere. Trust is not something that just comes, it has to be earned, and the three of us are going to have to force it just a little."

Quatre drew in a shaky breath at the word 'force'. He still wasn't certain about their customs and his brow crinkled in worry as Rashid stood and offered him his hand as he'd done earlier that morning. Quatre looked at it blankly.

"Take my hand, Quatre." Another command, but he wasn't as worried about following this one, he knew Rashid wouldn't touch him for long. Slowly he reached for the giant hand and again ghosted it as he sat up himself to stand next to his Teacher. Then Rashid turned to Abdule. "Follow us." Quatre noted that Abdule nodded and rose without protest as they both followed Rashid towards the bedroom.

He tried not to let panic overwhelm him but it was hard, so very hard. Again his lack of knowledge of their customs frightened him and he felt his body tense in indecision.

The door's closing sounded so final to Quatre that he swung around and nearly collided with Abdule.

"Hey there, it's alright. No one's going to hurt you, Quatre. Come on, Rad's waiting."

He nodded without feeling it, turning around to find Rashid standing by the bed, his hand indicating that Quatre should climb onto it.

He was getting so blasted tired of this but his muscles quaked again. Wishing he could just learn to control his body, Quatre sat on the edge of the bed, looking away from both men, instead staring at the wall across from him.

"Scoot back, Quatre; to the middle."

He tried, he really did. His mind compelled his limbs to move, to comply with Rashid's command but he couldn't, his arms and legs just wouldn't work. Instead they continued to shake, and against every principle he'd ever lived by, tears of frustration collected in his eyes. He wanted so much to please his Teacher. Rashid had been so kind to him, compassion something Quatre desired so badly he was willing to do anything to get it. But his arms refused to hold him up and his legs were still as stone. He thought about the safe word, Rashid's proclamation that it was alright to say when he was frozen in place, but he didn't want to, didn't want to admit defeat yet--and didn't want to test the word and find Rashid's promises false.

After a moment, Rashid knelt down next to him and started at the tears that had fallen from his lashes to slide gracefully down his cheeks.

"Oh, Quatre."

"I-I'm s-sorry…n-nothing works." Helplessly he shook his arms, indication that they didn't want to function.

"Do not be sorry, Quatre. Do you remember our safe word?" Abdule came to kneel next to him as well, as he nodded his head. At least his neck worked. "You can say it if you have to."

Bravely he shook his head, he was going to do this, if for no other reason that he was not going to show this much weakness on only the third day.

Taking deep breaths, Quatre closed his eyes, gathering his strength into his arms. In one desperate push he flexed his arms to take the weight of his body and push it back on the bed. They gave out under his weight, buckling under the stress of an indecisive mind.

On instinct he wrapped his arms around himself, lowing his head to his chest as he tried not to sob in frustration. Why was this so hard? Didn't all people do this? He wanted to be normal, he wanted to be a good Recruit, he wanted to please Rashid, which was all he really wanted.

In despair he spoke in a whisper.

"I can't."

"It's alright, Quatre. Shhhhh, don't worry." Abdule's fingers brushed his hair from his face and he was too exhausted to flinch away from the contact. "It's not your fault, Quatre. None of this is your fault and you shouldn't be sorry about it. There isn't anything in the world harder to get than trust, believe me I know." Quatre sensed understanding from Abdule and he looked up with red rimmed eyes. "Oh Little Quatre, don't cry. You're not alone, and I understand, really I do. Maybe not all of it, but I understand this, not wanting anyone near you at all. Afraid that the next person that touches you is going to hurt you worst than the last."

Startled that Abdule's words so precisely matched his emotions, Quatre gave the briefest hint of a nod; Abdule continued, Rashid just listened.

"When I first got here, I was a wreck! Literally. I'd been a troublemaker for my Master and he'd decided to see if he could get some coin for my hid by selling me to the Maguanacs as a slave. That's all I was before, a slave. But when he brought me before the leader, he found that nothing he said would convince them that I was worthy to be taken in. He got so angry. At that age I was obstinate, cruel, and dangerously close to giving up. My Master told the leader that I was good for two things, sex and mining. But the leader pointed out that the Maguanacs didn't do any mining, and that they couldn't use either of my skills. Then, just like you, he asked me if I wanted to become a Maguanac. I told him to go to Hell, and that I'd rather die than move from one Master to another like a dog. Yep, I think those were my exact words." He paused, and Quatre saw Rashid slide his arm around his oldest Recruit. "Rashid was with the leader when my Master brought me in. He was so angry; but at the time I thought it was because of me, I later realized that it was because of what my Master was saying."

Rashid spoke quietly, trying not to break the mood but comforting Abdule as best he could. "He's not your Master anymore, no one is."

Abdule was quiet for a moment before he turned to look Rashid directly in the eye. "You are. I don't know how to be without a Master; I've never quite figured it out. You might not say you are in word or action but that's how I think of you. I know you'd never abuse me, I know that with my soul, but you are Rashid. I know you don't like it, but that's the only way I know how to make it all make sense."

Quatre could feel the dislike from Rashid but the giant said nothing as he nodded and waited for Abdule to continue.

After a deep breath he did. "Well, of course my Master told the leader that I posses the 'Homo' gene and that I liked it up the ass as good as the next freak." Quatre shivered at Abdule's cruel and vulgar words, the emotions filling his heart ones of pain and suffering. "Anyway, the leader handed Rashid a bag of silver and Rad threw it at my Master. The next thing I knew I was a Maguanac and Rashid was my Teacher. That didn't go over real well." Abdule smiled at Rashid and the two shared a private moment. "Actually, it was terrible. I didn't trust Rashid and after learning about Aisha's chapter and how Allah had granted us the ability to freely know each other, I was flipping out. Then Rad sprang that whole, Teacher and Recruit relationship thing to me and I went nuts. You know what I'm talking about?" He did and nodded. "Did it freak you out too?" He dropped his eyes to his folded arms before thinking better of it and meeting dark sunglasses. He nodded.

"I was scared…I…still am."

Abdule offered an understanding smile. "I was scared for a long time too. It was hard because Rashid insisted that we share the same bed from the very beginning and the only time I'd ever shared a bed was when I was…" His sentence trailed off and it took only a gentle tug before he was wrapped securely in Rashid's arms, the giant's hands stroking fine brown hair.

He felt as if he were intruding on a very private moment and immediately felt uncomfortable. Rashid caught his eye and very lightly shook his head. Rashid's words from earlier came back to him and he tried his best to—if nothing else—be there for his…brother.

After a moment, Abdule pulled away, a shuttering breath escaping him. "Uh, sorry, Quatre."

This, Quatre knew how to answer."Don't be. I…feel your pain…I…understand."

Both men looked at him, odd expressions that he couldn't decipher.

"I wish you didn't have to." Abdule's voice was so sad.

Quatre shrugged. "It's what I do."

It was true. This was his curse and his blessing. He could feel the emotions of others but didn't know how to control it, didn't know how to stop it once it had begun. He felt Abdule's sadness at his comment but concentrated on bring up shields to block the emotions from coming through. They belonged to Abdule and Quatre would not steal them to fill his own void.

Fingers danced over his bangs again and this time it was Rashid.

Abdule continued. "I didn't want Rashid to touch me, not at all. I used to move into the other room when he came in or hide out in my room. He used to try to sit on the couch with me, only I'd scoot to the other end until I could get up and move to a chair. I could tell I was frustrating him to no end, but what could I do? After a while, when I'd realized that he was kind and caring, that he didn't intend to hurt me, I just didn't know how to reach out to him. There were days I wanted him to hold me but I left the room rather than ask. It was frustrating for both of us, and then finally, one day I just snapped.

"We were in the living room together. I was about seventeen and only about three or four months into my time here. I don't even remember what it was Rashid said, nothing relevant, but I went off like a cannon. I started hitting—hard—punches and kicks that landed where they were supposed to. Through it all he blocked, even tried to avoid me, but never—not one time—did he hit back, not once. I was crying, screaming at him that I hated him, that I hated this colony and that I'd never wanted to be a Maguanac in the first place.

"I'm still not sure exactly what happened, but I somehow manage to land a punch that sent Rashid to the floor. Boy, was I scared. But when I looked down, he was just laying on his back, a deep sadness in his eyes. I fell apart, sinking to my knees and sobbing like there was no tomorrow. I didn't think about it when it happened just did it, and the next thing I knew, I'd crawled into Rashid's arms and he was rocking me softly, telling me everything was going to be ok. And the funny thing was, I believed him.

"From that moment on, I just went to him. Sitting on the couch, I'd crawl into his lap. In the kitchen I'd plant my butt on whatever counter was closest to where he was cooking. I hardly used my room after that, and for a while I didn't even want to go to lessons, I just wanted to be around him. See, he was safe, I could trust him. Rad's like that; once you get to know him, he just doesn't seem threatening anymore. Now I'm not going to say we didn't have our moments when all I wanted to do was get him out of my sight; and for the first year I went from periods of wanting him next to me all the time to hiding out in the camps to avoid him. 

"But after a while it gets easier, Quatre. It's hard at first, but it does get easier. Don't worry if it takes you longer, and don't try to rush it, it'll come. One second you'll be avoiding us like the plague, the next you'll want to cuddle and do each others make-up." He smiled at his joke and Quatre followed in kind. "You're not a freak, Quatre. No one's been through exactly what you have but we all understand the pain you're going through. If you can't do something now, you'll be able to do it later. Trust Rashid to do what's best for you, and trust me if you need someone to talk to. I'll do everything I can to earn your trust, I promise."

Again, he was overcome with a sense of peace at Abdule's words. The man had shared a very intimate secret about himself and Quatre was grateful to hear that he wasn't alone in his fears. Abdule just had this way of making him feel less alone. Wanted, yes, that was what it was. When Abdule spoke to him, he felt wanted. He liked the feeling immensely.

Without words, Quatre drew in a deep breath and then unhooked his arms from about his body. Pushing into the mattress he slid his frame back along the bed until he was horizontal to its length. He was now in the middle and deemed that far enough for one day.

"Quatre?" He looked down tiredly at Abdule who'd stood to sit on the bed. "I know that we're not really brothers, and that I'm over a decade older than you are, but I'll be here if you need me. Working with Rashid is going to be hard, especially in the beginning. You can come to me about anything, no matter how silly or crazy. We're going to get through this together, because that's what it means to be family. Rashid taught me that, and he'll teach you, but I'm going to help damnit, if you like it or not!" The last was spoken with humor and Quatre offered a weak and tired smile in return.

Rashid, who was also sitting on the bed, moved himself until he was sitting next to Quatre. For some reason, Quatre didn't flinch away. Next Abdule moved up as well, and then Quatre was blocked in on two sides by two equally imposing men. He took deep breaths to calm his nerves, tried to calm the shivers that raced under his skin.

His Teacher's voice was patient as he spoke.

"Lie on your back, Quatre. You can put your arms wherever you want, but Abdule and I are going to place one finger against your shoulders, just one. We are going to leave them there until you tell us you have had enough. Try to stay lying down as long as you can. Understand?"

This was going to be impossible! The invasion of his space he could understand, even a slight touch if he was ready for it. But this, to be boxed in, to have two people touching him at the same time and letting it happen, it was so hard for him to even consider.

But with Abdule's words still ringing in his ears, Quatre made a slow decent to lay on his back, arms crossed defensively over his chest, eyes closed against the inevitable.

He felt the bed shift as both Abdule and Rashid lay on their sides next to him. He drew in a shaky breath.

"Alright, Quatre, Abdule and I are now going to place one finger each onto your shoulders. Tell us when to stop." He didn't nod, he didn't have to.

The touches were light, barely there, but Quatre felt them like hot pokers. He tried not to, but a half sob and whimper escaped him. His muscles tensed yet again and he felt the ache of them all throughout his body. His breath flowed in and out in choppy bursts that left him feeling dizzy and weak, while his body quaked at the contact; all he wanted to do was sit straight up and bolt across the room.

For what felt like eternity he lay there, surrounded by muscle and warm flesh, shaking as if he were still on the satellite. Two times he made to dart up, but kept to his place, praying it would be over soon, but prolonging his suffering because he so wanted to please them.

They talked to him, Abdule offering quiet comments about this or that, while Rashid spoke about the beauty of the places he had yet seen, and how he was looking forward to Quatre showing him the violin. Abdule talked about how much fun it was going to be buying Quatre everything he wanted--and definitely deserved to have--off the shop computer. But for the most part he couldn't hear their words, vague sounds that seemed to pass through Gundanium to reach his ears.

When it finally happened, it took him by complete surprise, it was not a command from his conscious mind.

"NO MORE!!!" He bolted up right, scrambling across the bed to run for the door. Quickly he ran though it, not realizing in his haste that neither Rashid nor Abdule had called for him to stop. In the living room he swung wildly around looking for an exit. He didn't know why he did it, but his feet just carried him to the prayer room. Pressing the release key, he stepped quickly inside, shutting the door and moving into a corner of the room closest to the door so that he would see the entering person before they saw him.

He never knew how long he stayed in there. But finally, on once again stable legs, he rose and opened the door. Rashid and Abdule were on the couch, sitting closely talking quietly.

Rashid turned to him with a wide smile on his face and Quatre quickly realized that Abdule had done the same.

His Teacher's words startled him. "Nearly four minutes, Quatre. That was very, very good." His deep voice was filled with sincerity and Quatre felt an immense sense of relief. He hadn't given much thought to Rashid's anger at him for running out, but now that the danger had passed and Rashid was even happy with him, he sagged at the relief.

"Oh, Quatre, one more thing." He looked up at Abdule's smiling face. "It's shake time."

He didn't have the energy to groan.

***

Later that night found him sitting in front of his new computer, Abdule behind him on the bed. He was carefully examining each piece the computer displayed for practicality and durability. Abdule was well and good frustrated with him.

"For the love of Allah, Quatre, just pick some things you like. It doesn't have to have eight hidden functions or be able to open a tin can and unlock a Gundanium safe. How about a lamp, not one that has three different settings and is mobile, just a lamp that you like. Come on, work with me here!"

Quatre turned and blessed his fellow Recruit with a rare smile before turning back to the machine.

"Oh, Quatre, you're going to be the death of me yet!"

For some odd reason, at ease with Abdule in the safety of his room, Quatre turned and asked. "What do you think of this?"

Curious at being asked his opinion, Abdule stood and moved to stand beside him. He shifted away from the advancing figure but didn't flinch.

It was a stuffed camel. One of those large ones that Quatre had seen on the vid.'s perfect families. He didn't expect the reaction he got.

"That is so cute! He can sit right on the end of the bed! The perfect room guard. He'll be perfect!"

Quatre's face faulted. "I-I was joking."

Abdule offered him a cheeky smile. "Hey, give a guy some credit, I got your cruel joke, now here's mine." With a swift movement of his hand, Abdule selected the stuffed animal to be imported on the next supply convoy, which happened to be in three days.

Quatre was stunned. "You just—"

"Yep! Aren't I bad?"

Aghast at the frivolousness of it all, he turned incredibly wide eyes on his so-called brother. "It's a waste. Rashid shouldn't have to—"

"Rad told you to get whatever you wanted. He meant it, Quatre. Whatever you want! That means that you get some practical things and some just plain kick ass stuff! Trust me, Rashid's budget can handle it, the man lives like a monk half the time."

"But…I don't want to—"

"Oh you! Listen, if he says anything we'll just tell him I pushed the button, deal?"

Still stunned by Abdule's carelessness with credits, he nodded hesitantly.

Just then, the chimes to his room rang out. No one said anything for a moment, until Abdule looked pointedly at him.

"Quatre, Rashid won't come in unless you tell him to. This is your space and he respects that."

Nodding his understanding, Quatre called for Rashid to enter.

The door slid open and the man walked through.

"It is late. You can continue your shopping in the morning. Let us go to bed."

"Good, I was getting tired of arguing with Quatre anyway. Rad, did you know he can be such a brat when you're not looking!" Horrified, Quatre was about to shake his head when Abdule turned around and winked at him, a large smile on his face. "You know, Quatre, the time will come when you'll actually chase me around the apartment screaming you're going to kill me. Until then, I'll let you save it all up for the first real fight we get into. Who knows, you might actually land a punch on me." His smile was bright and friendly, and though Quatre didn't know quite how to take the threat, he nodded in return.

"Quatre, let us go." Rashid stood by the door and with a deep breath, Quatre followed.

In the bedroom the two men stripped, but Rashid told Quatre he could sleep with his pants on if he wished. "Until you're more comfortable."

Nodding, he shakily removed his shirt and quickly dove under the covers to hid beneath them. Rashid slid in first, stretching his arm across the pillows.

"I know you are nervous, Quatre. We are going to play against your empathic abilities tonight. You do not know much about them but I have been taught some things. Lay on your back and close your eyes, when you open them it will be morning. Understand?"

Ignoring everything but Rashid's words, Quatre nodded hard before squeezing his eyes closed. There was a moment of nothing and then he felt Rashid's warm hand against the middle of his chest. Then he felt no more.

"That is the most amazing thing I've ever seen." Abdule said as he slid in behind Quatre.

Rashid smiled as he gently maneuvered Quatre onto his side until his head was pillowed in the crook of his shoulder, the small waif-ish arm now cushioned against his chest.

"His abilities are untrained, so he latches onto the first set of emotions that he experiences. I concentrate on feeling extremely tired and his already exhausted body just passes out from the force of it. I do not like doing it this way, but until he becomes more comfortable, this will be the least stressful for him."

Abdule nodded as he scooted up to spoon in behind Quatre. After a moment of quiet silence he spoke. "I'm glad he's with us, for his sake as much as ours. I know it's strange, but he already feels like family to me."

Rashid nodded as he curled his fingers to massage lightly against Abdule's neck. "Go to sleep. I'll keep watch until after you've drifted off."

"Rad?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for loving me."

A sad sweet smile crossed the giant's lips. "I love you too, now go to sleep."

In moments two sets of deep breathing filled the room and Rashid closed his eyes to make it three.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Quatre?" He heard the muffled question through the door of his room. He'd spent the majority of his morning in here, feeling uncomfortable around the two men he couldn't seem to unmask. The morning consisted of Abdule trying to get him to talk, Rashid trying to get him out of his room, and both of them using every trick in the book to get those awful shakes down his throat. Quatre was so looking forward to having a decent meal, even if it did make him sick.

Taking a deep breath he turned away from the computer terminal. Rashid and Abdule had been on him all morning about selecting some personal items from the shop computer. He wasn't at all comfortable using other people's money to purchase anything. He knew his father was rich, everyone did, but that left a guilty feeling whenever anyone offered to give him something. Explaining it wasn't something he was able to do, so he reasoned his reaction was just normal.

But they'd insisted, to the point where Rashid had made him promise to select at least twenty things by late afternoon. "I do not care what the items are, Quatre. Pick things that you have always wanted or that interest you. I will see what you have selected later."

So this is where he'd been for the last three hours, battling Abdule for privacy, and Rashid's "accidental" tripping of the door sensor. But Quatre had gotten a chance to breathe, to really take a deep breath. He wasn't prepared to analyze the situation completely yet, there were still things that he needed to think over, but this was as good a break as he could have expected.

Standing, Quatre moved from the computer terminal and pushed the open button on the door; Abdule was standing in front of him, a huge grin on his face.

"Hey, kiddo, you've got a visitor!"

What?! Who? He didn't even know anybody here!

Abdule moved aside, and standing right in the middle of the living room was the braided boy from the day before. He was wearing a strange black outfit with a black baseball cap over the top part of his hair, which he was currently trying to hide his eyes under in nervousness.

The boy spoke with forced cheerfulness, as if he were even more nervous than Quatre himself. For his part, Quatre was trying not to visibly shake.

"Hey! I'm Duo, remember me, crazy boy from yesterday? I'm the one that turned you into the foot massager." Duo smiled but the smile was nervous again and it did nothing to settle Quatre's nerves.

He nodded.

A dejected look fell across the other boy's face for a moment as he gazed at Quatre, and he couldn't help but think he'd somehow hurt the boy's feelings. Then in a sudden burst of energy, Duo started again.

"Ok, hey, let's try this: Let's pretend we've never met before and that this is the first time we've ever seen each other, ok?" Duo didn't wait for a response. "Hi, I'm Duo, one of last years Recruits, and I heard you were new in our apartment block. I live one down on your left. I like video games, movies, pulling stuff apart, my boyfriends, and anything with chocolate, especially if it's my boyfriends!" A suggestive look twinkled across Duo's face, but Quatre didn't understand it anymore than the implied twist of words. "I'm in the thief program and I'm the top student, not that I'm blowing my own horn or anything, just letting you know what I'm interested in. I got here—like I said—five years ago and I'm living with Howard. He's pretty cool but you know how old guys are. Anyway, if there's trouble, I'm usually the one that caused it, but it's not my fault! Oh, and I run, I hide, but I never tell a lie; so everything I just said is true. How about you?"

The silence that followed that question was as wide as Quatre's eyes. He'd never heard anyone talk as much as Duo did, or as fast! The boy just seemed to ooze energy, with an endless supply as back up. Quatre felt immediately inadequate to answer the questions Duo had answered. Instead, he took an involuntary step back.

Duo's face fell as Abdule reached out to steady him.

"Quatre, it's ok. Duo can be a bit overwhelming at times. I think he finds some sick pleasure in driving people crazy." Abdule looked pointedly at the braided boy.

"Hey man, if you got it, use it!"

Abdule just rolled his eyes. "Quatre, why don't you just take a breath for a second, then answer Duo."

Answer him? He could barely remember the questions! But the boy seemed so intent on his response, and he found himself wanting to keep that smile on his face, he hadn't liked the frown.

Following Abdule's advice he took a deep breath and then spoke.

"I'm Quatre. I like…playing music."

"That's it?" Duo seemed put out, he'd expected more.

"I like to read."

"Oh God, it's Wufei all over again! Look there's nothing wrong with reading, but you gotta live a little! Here, I brought this for you."

Duo was too fast, his outward thrusting hand with its square object was just too fast, it didn't register as a gift, it registered as an incoming blow.

In one giant step he pressed himself against the wall, hitting both his head and his shoulders against it in his rush to get away. How many times had fists come at him like that, from all angles? Hammering mounds of flesh and bone to render his body a mismatch of blue, purple, and sickly green.

Abdule was the first to respond.

"Quatre!"

Duo was the second.

"Not again!"

And Rashid, who had been watching silently from the couch, stood up without a word.

In a kind gesture that Quatre would later realized he'd misunderstood, Abdule tried to reach out to him, to comfort him by helping to steady him; it didn't work out.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" With a dramatic shift of his body, he turned around and tripped the door sensor, immediately fleeing to the safety of his room. Once inside, he moved towards the far wall, his heart beating wildly as he tried to get away, his mind racing to find a way out.

In terror, his mind only registered the giant man coming through the door and towards him. That was all he needed to know. In a jumbled tumble, Quatre scurried across the bed when Rashid got to his side of it, before bolting for the door and running into the open space of the living room. Abdule caught him about the waist and shoulders as he ran out the door.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

"Quatre, calm—"

"LET GO!"

"I will once you—"

"please, please, please…" It was a silent prayer of hope. He could feel Abdule's emotions, feel Duo's fear at his display, and even sense Rashid's fear.

"Abdule, let Quatre go."

"But—"

"NOW!" There was little room for argument, and as Abdule's grip lessened in shock at Rashid's harsh tone, Quatre broke from his grip and moved to the safety of the other side of the room, cowering behind the far chair.

"Rad?" There was hurt in Abdule's voice, and Quatre could both hear and sense it, that knowledge calming him enough to start deciphering what had just happened.

"Quatre does not like to be touched--under any circumstances. Holding him against his will, will only make his acceptance and trust in us that much harder. You remember." And Quatre did as well, remembered the conversation he'd had with Rashid only the day before. He watched Abdule's eyes widen in understanding, before nodding once and turning towards him.

Heart still beating wildly in his chest, Quatre was slowly starting to calm down, to analyze what had just happened. The boy—Duo—had thrown a punch at him—wait, that wasn't right, not a punch, just a fist, a fist with something in it. "_Here, I brought this for you_." That's what he'd said, Duo had been trying to give him something, something in his hand. But what? Why? They didn't even know each other. People weren't friendly, not in real life, only on the vid, and even then it wasn't real. But Quatre sensed sincerity in Duo; he just didn't understand it. Then he'd bolted and Rashid had given chase, to hurt him—no, not to hurt him, but to do what? Maybe to stop him, to make him understand that Duo hadn't meant to hurt him? Maybe to see if he was alright? But he'd run away and Abdule had caught him. He hadn't let him go, trapped him, he was going to hurt him—but, hadn't Abdule just been trying to calm him down? He didn't know; he just didn't know anything about what was going on!

His eyes ran wildly from one man to the next, looking into their eyes. Duo's were surprised and yet sad. Rashid's were open, honest, and also sad. Abdule's held guilt, along with the sadness. Too much sadness, he didn't want to be responsible for it.

Turning cautiously, with both the chair and the coffee table between them, he spoke carefully to Duo. "You…startled me. I'm not…really good with people."

It seemed that was all Duo needed to hear.

"Yeah, I guessed. But no sweat, my guy Heero was kind of like that, totally withdrawn from the world. But don't worry about it, I'm cool with it. Plus, this place'll change you, it's good for people that don't know much, we teach you everything, honest! Maybe I'll introduce you to Heero again, I don't know if you remember or not but you met him yesterday. Anyway, he can be kinda quiet at times, but he's such a sweetheart once you get to know him…well, maybe sweetheart's too strong a word, more like sweet-tart, yeah, that sounds better. Never mind, you'll understand once you meet him. Listen, I brought this to make up for scaring you like I did yesterday. It's nothing special, just a disk with some stuff on it I thought you might like to read. Oh, and there's a game on it you might like too, not that I know what you like or anything, but I remember how hard it was for me when I first got here. Not having anything of my own or anything, I just wanted you to have something, like a welcome here kind of thing. It's a little stupid—"

"NO!" He blinked again at his outburst, so did the others. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts he tried again. "It's nice of you. I…don't have anything to give back though."

"No, you got it all wrong. See, this is a gift to say, 'thanks for picking our neighborhood to chill in,' you know, a welcome here gift. It's not a barter, I'm not trading it to you for something else, it's just a gift." Rashid noticed his discomfort.

"Duo," the braided boy turned to his general. "Quatre was not given many gifts he did not have to earn before coming here." It was a simple statement, but Quatre immediately felt some kind of connection in Duo. The other boy seemed to stop and think for a moment, before slowly nodding in a sad and even manner.

The boy turned towards him. "I understand, totally, what you're talking about. I used to live with these people that totally sucked! Anyway, they made me work for everything I got too. You'd think a priest and a nun would be better than that, but nope, the same as you. Trust me, it's different here, way different, and tons better. Howard is the best thing that's ever happened to me, well," and again the mischievous look entered his eye. "Except for maybe Heero and Wufei, but we'll get into that later.

"Anyway, this is yours, I'm gonna put it on the back of this chair and you can get it later if you want, no strings attached. Let me know if you play the game or if you want to borrow another one, I've got tons; like I said, I'm a total video game junkie!" Duo's smiled had returned full force and Quatre found that he was nodding his head in both understanding and thanks.

The disk was dropped off, and Duo had just turned around at the door for one more goodbye when Quatre spoke again. "Thank you…for the gift…and for…visiting."

He didn't think it was possible, but Duo's smile got larger.

"Hey, no problem. Like I said, I'm down one door on the left, come by and see me sometime. I've got major junk food, and since I know that Wufei's got you drinking those disgusting shakes they made me drink when I first got here, I'd understand if you wanted some good old fashioned calorie packed, low nutritional value goodness, so stop by. I'll see you around—Oh! If I'm not at Howard's, then try Zech's, and if I'm not there, then try Treize's, oh and if I'm not at any of those places, just go to the camps and scream my name really loud, someone'll get me." And then with a wink and a wave, Quatre's first visitor left.

Whirling from Duo's energetic entrance, stay, and exit, Quatre used the back of the chair to steady himself as he turned to look at the two remaining people still in the room. Abdule spoke before he could.

"Quatre, I'm really sorry. Rashid's right, I know better than to have grabbed you like that. I wasn't think. I just didn't want you to hurt yourself, and over the years I've learned that being held is a lot nicer than running away. But you've got to learn that kind of stuff in your own time. I'm really sorry, and while I can't promise it won't happen again--'cause I'm an idiot and sometimes forget my own advice--I'll try not to let it happen again."

Quatre decided not to mince words at the pain and guilt he felt coming from Abdule.

"It's…ok. I know you didn't mean to…scare me."

A soft smile crept onto Abdule's face and Quatre felt the guilt around his heart lessen. But he wasn't finished yet. Turning to Rashid, Quatre tried hard not to cheapen his words by looking away, he wanted Rashid to understand him completely.

"When you…came towards me…it scared me. I didn't know…didn't know it was you…I wouldn't have run if I'd known." His eyes fell then, but they moved quickly up as Rashid came to stand in front of him.

In a very slow and deliberate move, Rashid held up his hand, palm up to Quatre. The message was clear, even to him, 'Take my hand.' He surprised himself as he did indeed take the offered hand--if not lightly--resting his own on top of it for a second before quickly pulling it away. Rashid smiled down at him, almost beaming.

"Very good, Quatre." 

He returned the smile.

***

The rest of the afternoon moved quickly for Rashid. He'd gone into Quatre's room at the boy's insistence, verifying that Quatre had indeed picked a few objects of his own. They were small things, things that were inexpensive and hardly worth the effort to bring them onto the colony, but Quatre had selected them and that was all Rashid needed to know.

Before, as Quatre had moved into his room to pick the personal objects after Duo had gone, he'd found himself in an awkward position with his first Recruit and lover.

Abdule might as well have been standing a thousand miles from him instead of just a few inches. Rashid had known that he needed to be more patient with his first Recruit, knowing that the younger man was trying desperately hard to make their new family work. He'd been so frightened when Quatre had bolted from Duo; terrified in a way he remembered being the first time Abdule had done something similar with him. Sadness had overwhelmed him when he'd gone after Quatre, only to see no sense of recognition in the boy's eyes for the split second it'd taken him to run away again. But the hardest part had been hearing the terrifying sound of Quatre's voice as Abdule had held him against his will.

How could he have expected Abdule to remember what his voice had sounded like all those years ago, nearly a decade? But the tone, no, the essence of the sound, had burned it's way into his soul years ago, and out of fear of losing Quatre before he'd been found, Rashid had lost his patience with his first Recruit.

But with Quatre now out of the room and Abdule avoiding eye contact, he knew it was time to talk, and quickly.

"Abdule—"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking—I don't know what I was thinking—I know better than to do that. You'd think I'd know better."

"It was not your fault—"

Abdule spun, anger in his eyes. "Of course it was! How many times did that exact routine play out between us? How many?! God, it must have been hundreds! I know how scary it is to be held against your will, I know and yet I did it anyway!"

Then a sad expression stole over Abdule's face, a trembling fear replacing the previous anger.

"What-what if…what I did—not letting him go…by Allah, Rashid, what if I've ruined everything! What if Quatre never trusts us again!"

Pain, agony, and terror, all feelings and thoughts he himself had had concerning Abdule so very long ago. He shook is head, reaching out for Abdule with arms intended for an embrace; Abdule just backed away.

"I mean it. What if that was it, what if I've ruined everything?"

"You have not."

"How can you be sure?! You saw him, Rashid, he ran across the room, and before that, the tone, that sound in his voice, I put it there! I did! He's afraid of me!"

Rashid had his lover wrapped tightly in strong arms before Abdule knew that he'd moved. He ran large hands through short brown hair and tight circles into a well-toned back. His voice was low and loving, promising truth and honesty.

"Quatre has already said that you did nothing but scare him. You have been kind to him since his arrival, and if you cannot, I can tell he has found a sense of kinship with you. I doubt you have noticed, but he has already started to look up to you, and he has begun to seek you out. This morning, when he asked you to again help him with the shop computer, he values your opinion, in ways that even he does not yet recognize. Quatre is adapting to you far better than to me and I am glad for it, the two of you have much in common.

"You did little more than scare him today, and he seems to already have recovered from it. He's frightened, but not entirely closed off; he is searching for meaning now, and it is important that we help him as much as we can.

"I want you to remember this moment, the guilt you feel right now, not because I wish you to suffer, but so that you remember why it is so important to think twice before saying or doing anything with Quatre. You must analyze not how you would interpret an action, but how a scared, confused, and mending boy of only fifteen would. Remember the tone in his voice, the fear, and you will know what is to be gained and lost as easily as a mistimed touch. Compare him to yourself as little as possible, the two of you are very different, far more than you are the same. Just remember how you felt and know that Quatre will feel very much the same way. And this, you forgave me when I let you go, and so has Quatre forgive you. Do not dwell on it, it will eat you alive if you do."

He felt Abdule snuggle into him, wiry hands clutching at his massive shoulders, begging for touch and comfort. With a gentle tug, he moved them both to a chair and sat, pulling Abdule to rest in his lap. His hands continued their comforting caresses while Abdule slowly allowed his words to sink in.

Finally, there was a deep and resigned sigh. "You're right, he did forgive me already. I just don't want to screw this up! I may have been just as vulnerable as he was when I first got here, but in all these years, even with Duo, Heero, and Wufei, I never saw a Recruit look as fragile on the outside as he is on the inside. I wish I could just grab my head and shove it onto his shoulders for a little while so he could see everything and not have to learn it all the hard way like we all had to. Is that how you felt? Did you want to do the same thing for me?"

A sad smile formed onto Rashid's mouth as he looked past Abdule and gazed at a picture his lover had acquired for him a few years ago. "More than anything in the world. You're pain was my own, and I never wanted you to be afraid of me. It broke my heart, and with Quatre it will probably happen again. As a Teacher, you open your heart to your Recruit, allow them to become a part of you so that you may save them from themselves. It is painful but necessary, you will understand more in time. For now, just remember what I have asked you to, and be open with him but cautious. Quatre is very much a child. As adults we must care for him until he is strong enough to care for himself."

For a long moment there was silence as Abdule contemplated all that he'd said. Then, in a flurry of movement, Abdule was pressed against him, mouth seeking reassurance that all was well between them. And Rashid offered that assurance, cradling Abdule's head in his hands as he pushed the kiss further, sweeping his tongue across unresisting lips before plunging inside for his own taste of comfort.

It was an hour before Abdule's watch started beeping, alerting them to the fact that it was once again time for another bout of convincing Quatre that he needed one more shake.

Now, hours later, dinner was over, and Rashid sat on the couch pretending to read the most recent data tracking on the new mobile suits Engineering was trying to create. But in reality he was peeking over the top of the pad, watching as Abdule and Quatre conversed over the game Duo had lent them.

"You got it, Quatre! Yeah! That's the way!" 

A pure white mobile suit flew across the vid screen as Quatre moved his hands in the sensor gloves. Abdule was beside him, a goofy grin and surprise clearly displayed on his features. "Quatre, you're a natural at this!"

The game had turned out to be part mobile suit simulation and part strategy. The idea was to move your forces into position—that was the strategy part—before putting on the gloves and facing them in simulated combat. Though Rashid was impressed by how quickly Quatre had picked up on the game, he was more impressed with the easy way Quatre had approached Abdule at dinner.

Quatre finished his shake well before Rashid had sat down to listen to Abdule rattle on about nothing. Occasional questions were directed towards the small blond, but Quatre either refused to answer or gave quick responses that told less than the new questions they raised. But they were all surprised when Quatre finally lifted his bright blue eyes and waited until he had Abdule's undivided attention.

"I-I can…still sense…I mean—I don't…" he sighed. "I'm not scared of you, Abdule." Rashid didn't think it was Quatre's actual words, no, Abdule probably only heard one, his name. Quatre had said it with such kindness, far more than a boy without friendly human contact should be able to produce. But he had, and Abdule had lit up like a Christmas tree. To his credit, he only smiled kindly back to Quatre and nodded, before changing the subject.

But now it was like the two of them had been long time brothers, separated from each other and only now getting a feel for what the other was like. Quatre allowed soft smiles to upturn his lips, while Abdule made it a point of letting Quatre know he was there without invading his space.

"TO YOUR LEFT!!!" Rashid looked up from his reverie just in time to watch Quatre effortlessly rip a mobile suit apart with his fictitious one. Abdule had his hands in his hair, nearly pulling it out with stress. "By Allah, Quatre! I didn't think you were going to make it!" The blond smiled slightly, returning his concentration to the game.

Then Abdule turned to him. "Rad, are you watching this? Look at him go, and he just read the instructions an hour ago!"

A little surprised by that revelation, he rose and moved to stand close to the screen. 

It was an ambush. Abdule couldn't see it yet, was only paying attention to the suits that Quatre was currently fighting, but the long range sensors on the fictitious controls alerted Rashid to the ten mobile suits in waiting just peaking into range of the radar when Quatre moved correctly. Rashid didn't hold up hope for the game continuing long.

Glancing quickly at Quatre, Rashid was stunned to see that they boy was extremely clam. Eyes transfixed to the screen, Quatre seemed to devour the information coming at him in real time simulation. His body moved with the grace of training, as if the young one had done nothing but train for the better part of the last ten years. Rashid watched the focus, the absolute direction of every single one of Quatre's senses on the task at hand; all but one. Every now and again, Quatre would pass a fleeting glance up at Abdule, and in those seconds, Rashid saw the beginnings of awe. This small blond boy of but fifteen short years was in rapture as Abdule continued to urge him forward, and Quatre soaked up the attention as his mind did the emotions he could not screen.

Suddenly the ten waiting mobile suits came out of hiding, and Abdule was screaming for Quatre to look out, and the gorgeous blond was moving his hands to and froe, the feel of the piloting stick simulated in his gloved hands. In those intense moments, Quatre did not turn to look at Abdule, but instead concentrated without a sound on the suits in front of him. As Rashid watched with the most stunned expression on his face, Quatre felled each and every one of them.

"Level 5 completed. Advance to Level 6?"

Before either himself or Abdule could say anything in congratulations or exuberant awe, Quatre was taking the gloves off and turning to regard his Teacher. There was a slight hesitation in his voice, but at the same time, it ebbed away the more syllables he spoke.

"Rashid…may I amend my order on the shop computer?"

Having an idea of what was to come, he smiled and nodded, showing Quatre with action that he understood. Then Quatre was turning to Abdule.

"I don't know much about vid games. Would you help me pick one out?" There was the barest hint of a smile, and Rashid caught Abdule's eyes before the younger man spoke.

"I'd be honored! You did a great job at the strategy part. Did you like that part?" Quatre nodded. "Great! Then why don't we look for one of those? I bet the shop computer is still linked to ours!"

A faint but definite light entered Quatre's eyes then, and Rashid was loathed to extinguish it. But it was late, and for Quatre, the night was still young and filled with challenges to come.

"Perhaps tomorrow. Now I believe it is time for another lesson. Quatre, turn the simulation off and meet Abdule and I in the bedroom." He saw the fear enter Quatre's eyes as the small boy's body stiffened. But Quatre bowed his head and nodded before reaching for the controls.

With a look between them, Rashid moved towards the bedroom, Abdule behind him, Quatre taking the gloves back into his room. When the door shut behind Abdule, effectively shuttering their conversation from Quatre, Abdule spoke hurriedly.

"Did you see him, Rad? It was like he'd been born in the cockpit or something. He's got natural talent, and Zechs'll kill something if he finds out we kept a pilot with this much potential from him." Abdule was excited. His job was the construction and repair of the mobile suits they used in training sessions, having a pilot who was as good as Quatre seemed, it was more than most builders dreamed.

Rashid tried to remain calm. "He does seem good at the controls, but a game is far different than reality. We shall see what the council thinks is the right course for Quatre."

"Yeah, but you gotta admit, he's got at least some talent."

"Freely. But like with you, I hope he is not selected as a pilot. There is too much danger in that profession." A tone of relief and thanks was in his voice and he saw when Abdule caught onto it.

"You always were trying to protect me. Quatre doesn't know how good he's got it here." A smile softened the words, but not their impact, and Rashid smiled his love.

Then the door opened, and Quatre entered.

***

Through the shield of his long bangs, Quatre watched the world shake as the trembles of his body shook his vision. Desperately, he closed his eyes, reasoning with his mind, begging that it come under his control like it had been before coming to this place. He was so tired of being afraid, of cowering against the unknown-everything around him. Envy, he'd envied the boy who'd brought him the game, Duo, wanting so desperately to be as carefree and joyous as he'd been.

In his room, alone with these thoughts, he'd tried to imagine what he'd be like if only he could act like Duo had, without care and yet reserved caution. To be both open and withdrawn, it was the only way Quatre could imagine life now.

He knew the moment he entered the room he'd interrupted another conversation between his Teacher and his…what? Brother? Friend? Man who did not appear to be his enemy? Quatre didn't know, had no adjectives to make the picture clearer. Silently, with the quake still in his bones, Quatre approached the bed and settled onto the edge, resting between Rashid and Abdule.

The concern rolled off the two in waves. They feared for him, and pitied him at the same time, cared for, and perhaps loved him.

"Quatre, yesterday you did exceptionally well, so today we will test you even further." His own fear stole into his muscles again and the quaking increased. Rashid didn't seem to notice. "As before, you will lie back, only this time, Abdule and I will place our palms against your shoulders. Just as before, when you can no longer stand the contact, you will let us know." It wasn't disapproval that colored Rashid's voice, he truly did believe that Quatre had done an excellent job yesterday; but still, Quatre had run, and Rashid was telling him to speak first, to let the other two men prove Quatre's faith in them. Solemnly he nodded, and with great effort, shifted back onto the bed.

Two massive forms, bodies built with mass and substance shifted once he'd settled, rising over the mattress at his knees, then the valley of his lower back. He lay still, arms crossed at his chest, the image of a beautiful boy laid out in a coffin made of invisible glass. His body was ridged and his breath came in little gasps as to minimize the rise and fall of his chest. But his face, that was the feature he knew gave him away. Terror danced across it, as it might always do when he faced such terror of his own mind's making. His fears were not justified, Quatre knew that, knew that neither man would hurt him, yet still, still he feared and lay like the dead, hoping to be overlooked again by one more man's affections.

"Are you ready, Quatre?" The sound came from his left side, and it startled him to open his eyes and look into familiar blue ones. Rashid's eyes weren't bright like his, but dulled with age and something else that Quatre knew to be pain and agony in its own right. He closed his eyes against the possibility, against the notion that someday his own eyes might dull to that shade because of the things he'd see. 

"I'm ready."

And then it began. Again the touch was light and warm. Ten fingers brushed his skin in more contact than Quatre could remember focused on him in a very long time. The palms of the hands that touched him did not hold him down or imprison him as others had in the past; these lay lightly against him, so that if he breathed just so, his body retracted from them like the waves from the shore. So this is what he concentrated on, the feel of his skin moving towards and away from the flesh of these two men that seemed genuinely to care for him.

To his right Abdule spoke to him, but Quatre acknowledged nothing, focusing on the sound of his breathing, the feel of skin whispering against skin. He knew if he focused on anything else he'd be absorbed by the emotions that touched him, that threatened to overwhelm him if only he'd drop his shields. Blood flowed through his ears, and soon Abdule's voice was drowned out by the rushing sound, the whispered touches, and his constant drive to breathe to force it to continue.

Never had touch been like this. It was poison and pleasure, pain and euphoria. He wanted to hold onto it, hold it close to him because for one moment he felt more alive than ever in his live. Then in another second he wanted to push it way, fling it from attacking him as only touch could.

The whimpers escaped him without his knowing. Strangled bits and fragments of a long cry of suffering that was broken by the quick gasps of breath that kept his chest from fully taking in oxygen to give them life. The trembling returned, but only to his face. His lips that could look full and pouty when sad, or thin and hurtful when angered, shook slightly as his teeth drew the bottom one in to be worried. His eyes too constricted and then retracted, the unknown emotion playing across his face as it did his eyes beneath the flesh.

But Quatre knew none of this, only the sound of his heart, the brush of his skin against another's, and the building pressure to run and stay. And then it invaded his senses, this feeling that Quatre knew he had neither choice nor desire to run from. It broke across his shields because he'd been hoping to forestall it from the beginning by watching for it. That emotion had attacked during dinner, and again he'd tried to stop it. But some men knew words, while others action, and Quatre knew what he had to do and did not hesitate.

His eyes opened, and in one fluid motion he relaxed his face and turned to look into the handsome face not six inches from his own. The proximity frightened him, but failing--not following through--this frightened him more. To lose this thing before he'd had it, to be alone even while surrounded by people. He didn't want to be alone again.

Eyes focused on the reflection of his own, but he knew Abdule's eyes were staring directly into his. He knew and so he proceeded.

"Please, I'm not afraid of you. Please." And then he moved. Shifted out of Rashid's hand and curled his body towards Abdule's. The younger man was stunned, Quatre could feel it, but there was a sense of understanding too, and Quatre knew Abdule now understood as well. "I'm not afraid of you."

Thin arms cautiously encircled him, and though he stiffened at first, he relaxed as hands began to make long sweeping strokes across his back and shoulders. Then a cheek, rough with day long shadow, nuzzled into his hair, moving the strands with its coarseness. "I know that now, Quatre. Thank you."

But Quatre said nothing, he didn't have the strength to. So he lay where he was, curled against Abdule, his forehead pressed against the man's chest. 

After a long moment, he felt Rashid's hand join Abdule's and at this intrusion to his skin, he did not flinch away from. Soft, organized emotions filtered across his senses and Quatre sighed greatly as he sunk into the caress of both the physical and spiritual. He sighed again, and against all reason he snuggled into Abdule, seeking the warmth he'd been denied for so long aboard that fading satellite. This was real, this was the present. Rashid and Abdule around him, touching him with love and peace, hope and promise of a better life than the one he'd known. Yes, this was all he'd never hoped to imagine, to dream. 

He was going to be alright. Quatre's final thought as he drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Rashid awoke to the strange sensation of space around his body. A cool breeze from the air coolant system shifted his awareness immediately. Opening his eyes, he found himself on his side, Abdule a good two feet from his body. Relaxing, he closed his eyes; Abdule must have moved away in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, Rashid sat bolt up in bed. Raking his eyes across the room he looked for the missing piece of the morning puzzle. Quatre was no where to be seen. Turning to his lover, Rashid shook Abdule until the tan skinned man opened his eyes and grumbled something about sleeping five more minutes.

Turning towards the clock Rashid noted that it was barely three in the morning.

"Abdule, wake up! Quatre is missing."

Immediately, the smaller man sat up, blinking away sleep. He allowed his red eyes to scan the dark room before turning frightened and pleading eyes on his Teacher. "Rad, where is he?" The tone was so helpless, so small. Recruits often never grew out of the need to seek comfort from their Teachers; it was a conditioned response as much as a nurtured one.

"It will be alright. He could not have gone far." But Rashid was angry with himself. He'd never even felt Quatre stir. He couldn't believe that the small boy could have gotten away from him without his knowledge.

Earlier that night, when Quatre had fallen asleep in Abdule's arms, both men had been stunned by the boy's display. Neither himself or Abdule expected Quatre to attempt such a complete change. The boy had been so withdrawn and quiet, it never occurred to Rashid that Quatre would take the first step willingly. But Quatre seemed to be full of more surprises and twists than he'd originally considered—an enigma.

"Rashid, we have to find him! Who knows where he could be! After last night—oh Allah! What if he left because of me! What if it was all an act, and I scared him half to death! What if he hates me!" Self-doubt had often been a plague Rashid had had to fight off with every bit of strength he had when dealing with Abdule. When he'd taken the young man as Recruit, Abdule had hidden his doubts, but as they'd become closer, the self-hatred had been something Rashid vehemently fought against.

Raising his arms, he pulled his first Recruit across the expanse that separated them and gently stroked the shaking man's back. Strong hands ran across sweating flesh and soothing words fell from his lips. "Abdule, Quatre forgave you last night. You know that, you saw it with your own eyes, felt it with your own heart. We will find the child, do not fear. Now come, he may be in his room."

It was a desperate hope, but Rashid saw the relief flash in Abdule's eyes before both men rose quickly and moved into the main room. They stopped dead in their tracks at the sight that met them as the door slid open.

Wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting white pants, Quatre stood in full VR gear by the com. Hands incased in sensory gloves, his face shielded by the black visor that fed his eyes information, the boy swayed as the screen showed that he was engaged in another gaming simulation as he had been earlier that evening.

But closer inspection showed that this was not exactly so. Sweat dripped from the boy's chest, and the gap in the visor showed that Quatre's teeth were bared. One hand was before him, gripping the imaginary piloting stick, while his other hand raced over illusionary controls, pushing buttons, and pulling on overhead levers. In constant movement, Quatre's hands moved from one control to another, as his body swayed with the movements his eyes and brain were seeing. Small sounds issued from his mouth, the low guttural growls, and the rapid intake of breath as he fought to supply his body with enough oxygen to continue.

The com screen showed that Quatre was in the mobile suit simulation again, only this wasn't the leisurely expanse of an open field dotted with a few incompetent mobile suits. The great expanse of space lay before their eyes. Stars glittered in the background, while the darkness would have overwhelmed them had it not been for the dozens of mobile suits that lit the blackness.

Size, shape, color, it didn't matter, Quatre fought them all. A wide range of weapons classifications flashed across the screen, as Quatre's suit passed the others to get a clear shot. The view on the screen changed, tactical information raced across it in a tidal wave of knowledge that Rashid couldn't follow, but sensed that Quatre could.

A moment later, a whining sound issued from the com, and a sudden burst of light lit the dark room. In its wake, Rashid saw that all the mobile suits had been destroyed by Quatre's single shot. Dozens of lives snuffed out by one pull of an imaginary trigger. It sent a cold chill down Rashid's back.

Suddenly, the game prompted Quatre, in its cold metallic voice.

"Level 28 cleared. Advance to Level 29?"

Impossible! Quatre had only been on level 6 earlier that evening! There was no conceivable way he could have made it to level 29, especially since the boy couldn't have been away from his arms for that long to begin with. Rashid knew his sleeping surroundings almost as well as his waking ones. His newest Recruit could not have possibly—

"A-am I going to b-be punished?" Large cerulean blue eyes stared at the two men in the doorway. The visor was removed, and was gripped tightly in Quatre's hands. The dark lacquer of the visor against Quatre's pale skin showed just how much Quatre was shaking. There was fear in his entire stance. Visor held in front of his body to deflect as many blows as possible, his torso was curling towards the ground, and his arms pulling tightly into his body to protect his trunk from the blows he expected. Corn silk bangs had fallen into his eyes, but Quatre was too intent on his Teacher and fellow Recruit to make a move to brush them aside.

An enigma. Capable of decimating dozens of mobile suits with a snarl on his face, and yet when faced with two men that he didn't have to fear looked ready to be attacked from all sides—and completely unable to protect himself.

Rashid didn't know what to think, didn't really know what to say. He was disappointed that Quatre had snuck away from their bed, but he didn't dare show anger towards the boy. Quatre looked about ready to faint, or worse, completely shut down. Unconsciously, his indecision on how to approach the matter caused his hands to ball into fists. He didn't realize he'd done it until a fleeting glance of Quatre's eyes saw them. Blond hair fell completely over his face as Quatre ducked his head. The visor fell from his hands to the floor, and Quatre let his arms drop to his sides. The look was completely submissive, like a child who'd given into the inevitable. Body loose but still shaking, Quatre stood waiting for the blows he anticipated as his punishment.

Beside him, Abdule gasped. But as startling as it was to see Quatre do this, Rashid knew it wasn't uncommon. By the nature of who they were, most Recruits had been severely punished as children. They came into the Maguanacs full of fire and defiance on the outside, but with submissive resignation on the inside. When faced with what they considered the inevitable, most Recruits gave up the fight—loosening their bodies as a way of reducing the damage.

A twinkle of light caught Rashid's eye as he watched something fall from Quatre's bowed head to land on the plush carpet at the boy's feet. Guilt at his own inability to act and fear for Quatre's well being carried Rashid across the space that separated himself from his newest Recruit.

Gentle but firm fingers found their way under Quatre's chin and insistently lifted his face into the light. The Teacher had to close his eyes at the sight before him. Eyes downcast but not daring to close, Quatre refused to make eye contact while large and silent tears fell from his eyes. Rivers of fear tracked down pale cheeks to drip off the end of his chin, silent, and without voice.

"I didn't mean to…make you mad."

Without a sound, Rashid pulled Quatre into his body. His trunk like arms wrapped about the boy and held him close, while large fingers buried themselves into blond strands and gently massaged the child's scalp. Silently, Rashid slipped to his knees, his massive frame still taller than Quatre's even in this position. But they were closer to eye level, and at Quatre's stunned expression, Rashid knew he'd done the right thing coming down to Quatre's level.

With gentle insistence, he pulled Quatre back into him, using his hands to rest the child's chin on his shoulder, the boy's face in the crook of his neck. One hand rubbed large soothing circles across Quatre's back, while the other petted the hair that smelled of sandalwood and sweat.

He didn't know how long he held the boy, but offered a smile to Abdule when the younger man knelt down, also wrapping his arms about Quatre's frame. No words were spoken, none needed to be. Quatre felt their emotions far more clearly than they could describe them. Bundled close to them, skin touching skin, Rashid knew Quatre's inability to control his talent would force him to feel the absurdity of his earlier question.

After hours or minutes, Rashid felt a shift in Quatre's weight, and begrudgingly released the boy. For his part, Quatre pulled away but made no move to put distance between them. His eyes were soft and full of wonder, an expression of awe.

Their eyes met and held, and Rashid felt the desperate need to be loved flowing off the boy in waves that crashed against his sense like fists and kisses. He blinked, bringing his hand up to caress Quatre's cheek, not the least bit surprised when Quatre leaned into the touch, begging silently for more. Softly, he offered his statement to Quatre's question.

"You frightened us, Quatre. I awoke and could not find you. Why did you leave our bed?"

Rashid's voice had startled Quatre's eyes open and the boy looked slightly stunned to have the silence broken. Then, to Rashid's amazement, a light blush traveled across Quatre's face, coating the blond in a light pink.

"The game…it was fun."

Smiling to himself, Rashid nodded. "Perhaps, but from now on, it would be best if you played it during the day instead of the middle of the night." A gentle admonishment, but one that Quatre would understand. And true to his thoughts, Quatre nodded before lifting his eyes and offering a weak but real smile.

"Quatre," Abdule spoke. "Why don't you and I play together tomorrow—well, I guess—later this morning. Then, if you want, I'll take you to the shop and you can see the real things. How's that sound?"

It would have been impossible to miss the excitement in Quatre's eye. "You have real mobile suits?"

Rashid wanted to shake his head and groan.

"Of course we have suits! That's what I do all day, fix-up and create mobile suits! Didn't I tell you I worked in the shops? NO? Well, I do, and tomorrow, I'll take you down there, introduce you to the guys, and then show you my babies! I think you're going to like them. In fact, I think I'll introduce you to Sandrock! That girl's been begging for a good pilot for months now!"

Sensing Abdule was about to take a breath and continue, Rashid rushed in. "That will be fine for tomorrow. However it is late, and our time is better spent resting now. Come Quatre, back to bed."

He rose, smiling as he offered Quatre his outstretched hand, thanking Allah when the boy seemed to take it without conscious thought. With his other arm wrapped about Abdule's shoulders, Rashid propelled his family back to bed.

***

"You made these?"

"Well, not all by myself, no. But I designed their outer chassy, pretty cool, hu?"

Abdule's only answer was an enthusiastic nod of Quatre's white blond head. He smiled at his "little brother," ruffling his hair good-naturedly. Not used to the contact, Quatre looked up at him with questioning eyes before smiling.

"Hey! You wanna sit inside one?"

Eyes as big as the sun, Quatre nodded, and Abdule laughed as he depressed the button on the mobile suit's lift. A thin metal wire broke from the latch above and with a hissing sound, dropped to the ground.

"Ok, Quatre, just grab a hold of this here." With a tug, Abdule grasped Quatre's hand and maneuvered it to the grip bar. He felt the fleeting hesitation at their contact, but ignored the shudder that ran through Quatre. The boy didn't seem to mind, and he was growing used to Quatre's skittishness about being touched. "Now, put your foot in that loop. That's right. Ok, when you're ready, give a tug, and then up you go!"

There was the briefest hesitation from fear before Quatre took a deep breath, one more glance at him, and then tugged. Abdule was proud of him, most people screamed their first time on the lift. At whiplash force, the line rose, carrying its passenger quickly up the side of the Goliath.

When Abdule saw Quatre's death like grip lessen on the line, he called up. "Good job, Quatre! That's the first thing you have to learn about real mobile suits: getting into them is almost worse than piloting them!"

A day ago he would have been worried at the glower Quatre sent down at him, but today was different, they'd bonded.

The moment Abdule had awoken that morning for the second time, he'd known things were going to get better for his new family.

Quatre still wasn't comfortable sleeping with them in anything less than a pair of cotton pants, and Abdule couldn't blame him. He remembered exactly what he'd been thinking when Rashid had told him the first time that he was to sleep with his Teacher every night, only to find that Rashid slept in the buff: no way in hell! He too remembered the long pants and even the sweatshirts he'd worn to bed in those early weeks. But Rashid had let it go without comment, and as the weeks had turned to months, and he found himself falling asleep on one side of the bed only to wake up on his Teacher's side, cradled in Rashid's arms, well, he'd given up on the clothing idea.

So Quatre wore the only clothing in the bed, but that was fine, nice actually. He awoke to find that while Quatre lay half across Rashid's chest with himself spooned in behind the boy, Quatre had also managed to slip one half covered leg between his own. The feel of warm cotton, it was nice, nicer to know Quatre was wrapped in it.

But not in a sexual way. No, Abdule was a one-man kind of guy. He thought of Quatre more like his little brother now, a really close little brother that he wanted to spend the next year showing everything to. But it was weird. Since he'd met Rashid, Abdule had stuck close to home, having only a one-night stand with a close friend of his, Estiban. The sex had been good, but both he and Estiban had realized it wasn't meant to be. Both had gone back to their Teachers, and both were now currently very happy. That had been almost eight years ago and the idea of sleeping with anyone but Rashid never even crossed his mind, at least in a tangible way. Quatre wasn't any different right now either, but Abdule wasn't fooling himself. Quatre was beautiful, and was only going to grow more beautiful as the months turned into years. He had at least one more year with Quatre, and another ten if he stayed with Rashid—which he had no doubt that he would. There was something special about Quatre though, and Abdule knew that one-day he'd be engaged with Quatre in some kind of sexual encounter.

The Maguanacs did not promote promiscuity, but it was no secret that they faced death willingly everyday by being the protectors of the Islamic people. One dispute could kill one or all of them. A few years ago, before he'd been recruited, there'd been a border dispute that had resulted in ten of their number being killed in a terrorist attack. Those ten men had left behind ten lovers who were immediately offered comfort in all forms of the word. They were a band of men that believed in taking care of their own no matter what the cost, and willingly gave as much as they received. Allah had given them the freedom of considering themselves—all one hundred of them—family. So like a harem, there were the first "wives" and then the rest. Zechs and Trieze were a prime example. Without doubt, Zechs would be Trieze's "first wife," however; Wufei was Trieze's Recruit and held a very special place with him, like a "second wife." Both were loved and cherished by Trieze, neither more or less than the other, but still, there was no mistake, that for Treize was Zechs, and for Wufei were Heero and Duo.

But that morning, as Quatre had awoken slowly, allowing his senses to come to life with a smile on his face and snuggle that he didn't know he was doing, Abdule had guessed that everything was going to be ok. It did get a little rocky for a moment though.

Quatre had finally managed to open his eyes fully. It'd been nice to see that the boy didn't always awaken as if the devil were chasing him. It must have been the way Quatre had stretched or perhaps his abilities had told him, but as soon as he sensed that both he and Rashid were wrapped around him, Quatre froze.

"P-please let-let go." Poor Quatre, his voice had been so small, but there had been assurance there, and as he'd rolled away and Quatre had quickly stood on the bed only to walk across it and to the door, relieved but not frightened, he'd known everything was going to be ok. There had been a moment of silence between the three of them, before Quatre offered another one of his weak smiles. "Can we…eat? I'm really hungry."

Now, Abdule still smiled at the bravery that little statement had taken. He didn't remember asking Rad for food for at least a month after he'd gotten there. To a slave, food was a control, asking for it often got answered with a beating. It was nice to see that Quatre was able to so easily request something he hadn't been able to. But that wasn't the only thing learned the previous evening. 

Last night had proven something to Rashid as well. As they'd showered together that morning, Rashid had confessed quietly as he'd washed Abdule's hair.

"He is adapting much faster than I thought he would. Quatre may have appeared to be one of the untouchable cases, but he is turning out to be more flexible than I imagined he would be."

He'd leaned back as Rashid had maneuvered him under the spray. "That's my little brother for you. I think he's going to surprise us all more than we ever imagined!" He'd been startled when Rashid had pulled him out of the spray and seized his mouth in a searing kiss that rattled his sense and brought his body to immediate life.

"I am glad to hear you call him that."

Breathless, "What? Little Brother? Well he is kind of. I've never had a brother, but I think our relationship is shaping out like that don't you? I mean look, we already argue! Like this morning, he wanted the vanilla shake with nutmeg, and I wanted him to have it with cinnamon. He made that face, like someone'd tried to poison him with cinnamon in the past, before telling me nope he was going to have nutmeg. Actually, it's kind of cute if you think about it. Someday we'll reminisce and our first argument will be over nutmeg and cinnamon."

"I am very proud of you." Abdule lived for that statement. Rashid didn't say it often, so when he did, he meant it.

Shaking himself again, Abdule closed his eyes against the memory of what else had transpired in the shower this morning. He sighed at the thought.

"Abdule?"

Eyes flashing open, he turned to look up at Quatre hanging over the side of the chest plate of the suit. "Sorry, Quatre, I spaced. Listen, there's a lever to the right of the suit, do you see it?" He watched as Quatre turned back to the chest of the mechanical beast.

Finally, the blond leaned back over, nodding his head. "Ok, good, I want you to pull that lever. The chest plate will open up, and you'll be able to climb in. Go ahead and have a seat, just don't hit the green buttons, those turn things on. Go it?"

With a grand smile on his face, Quatre turned to follow his instructions.

He'd seen that particular smile earlier of course, after prayer.

"Abdule? Do you, um, want to play that game together?" Quatre had been waiting for rejection, he saw that now as surly as he'd seen it then. Rashid was wiping his hand off from doing the dish, just as Quatre was drying the last glass the giant had handed him. Quatre's back had been towards him, but Abdule had seen the stiff way Quatre had held himself as he'd waited for his answer. Rashid had caught his eye for a moment behind Quatre's back before walking over and stealing the cloth and cup from Quatre's hands.

"I will finish up in here, you go load up the game." And then he'd seen the smile. It'd shattered the image of a boy without hope that had surrounded Quatre since coming aboard the station. He'd been so amazed by it, all he could do was stare as Quatre had moved back into the living room to set up the game. Rashid offered him a soft smile and a nod towards Quatre's direction.

Abdule knew the closeness between himself and Quatre bothered Rashid a little. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The Teacher was supposed to bond with the Recruit, that was the first relationship formed between the Recruit and anyone else. But while Quatre respected and even feared Rashid, the bond he'd created had been with Abdule.

The last Teacher to take on two recruits had been nearly a fifty years ago, and Abdule had read it hadn't gone that well. The first Recruit had become jealous of the new one and had refused to bond properly with the boy. It had been a hellish experience for all three men, resulting in all three going separate ways at its conclusion. Rashid didn't have to fear he and Quatre not bonding, but Abdule knew Rashid was afraid that Quatre wouldn't bond properly to him. He personally thought that Rashid should just be patient, that Quatre seemed the type to only take in so much at once, but never the less, while he took Quatre down to the shop this afternoon, Rashid was going to talk to Master Habsaba in the hopes of some advice.

Deciding he had better check on his companion, he called down the lever, and then rode the line to the cockpit. Climbing onto the chest plate he watched as Quatre moved large eyes from one side of the cockpit to the other.

"She's pretty cool, isn't she?"

"She's amazing! I recognize some of the controls from the simulation, but some I've never seen before."

Abdule smiled, shop he could talk. "Well, the simulation you played was a really toned down version. It takes years to learn to pilot a Mecha properly. Did you know that Duo's a pilot? Yeah, he's still learning, his partners, Heero and even Wufei pilot too. We were all so stunned when the council decided that all the new Recruits last year would become pilots. It was pretty strange."

A faint look of concern traveled across Quatre's face then, and Abdule paused and waited for the question he knew was coming.

"Wh-what do you think the council will make me do?" And there it was, fear. Abdule saw it, noted it, and then acted on it.

Lifting his hand to rest on Quatre's shoulder, Abdule smiled down at the boy-child. "No one's ever really sure what the council will decide. I had piloting experience when I got here, but the council decided that I'd do better as an engineer. I can't say I'm not happy with their decision. For some strange reason the council seems to know what you'll be good at. They've been doing it since the beginning, and people have stopped questioning them. Some say Allah comes and tells them in the form of an angel, while other say it's some strange precognition. I asked Rad once, you know, since he's head general and all that, he told me he had no idea how they did it. If Rad doesn't know, then we just aren't supposed to know. But don't sweat it. No matter where they place you, you'll be happy. We take care of our own after all!" He stood then, ruffling Quatre's hair. "Come on, I'll show you my babies."

Like a child getting to see his big brothers secret from mommy and daddy, Quatre followed. The hanger was huge, the massive size echoing their footsteps as they moved down the walkway. Brightly lit mobile suits sat back in steel alcoves, scaffolding encasing them as if in coffins, only to rise again from their resting-places when needed. Through this maze, Quatre walked beside him, careful not to wander too far way. At one point three of his fellow engineers walked in their direction, courteously shouting their hellos. But Abdule sense the fear immediately from Quatre and encircled the boy's shoulders with his arm as he gave his friends a knowing look, a see you later, and pulled Quatre along. The boy relaxed when they were out of earshot.

And then they were there. He turned his back to them to stand in front of Quatre, usurping the boys undivided attention. "Quatre, you are about to witness my unborn children. Some men crave women and family, I desire steel and wiring. It is my pleasure to introduce you to all five of my kids. Please say hello to Wing, Deathscythe, Heavyarms, Sandrock, and Nataku. These, Quatre, are my legacy." He knew he was being over dramatic, and as he watched the uninhibited smile cross Quatre's face he knew it to be worth a hundred laughs.

Giving Quatre's arm a tug, he pulled the boy down the row of mobile suits. 

Wing, his first. The Mecha had been built like a child's toy, a fascination Abdule had had as a child, a Mecha that turned into a bird—well, as much of a bird as a Mecha could be. Graceful and long, the old bird had superior maneuverability in Wing formation.

Then there was Deathscythe. He'd built her after some old horror movie he'd been able to watch as a child. If death came in the form of a Mecha, it would look like this. The beautiful machine was entirely black, a state of the art cloaking device installed to hide it from view. The machine had been built for stealth, as sneak attacks could often end a war before people had to die. 

Heavyarms, painted in the color the animal kingdom on earth knew to mean danger, the massive orange Mecha was an arsenal of guns. Drop Heavyarms into a battle and watch her decimate her opponents. But her rapid death came with a price and she had to be rescued once her ammunition ran out or she'd be a sitting duck. He was still working the kinks out of her. 

Sandrock, his quietly held favorite. She was built from a dream he'd had one night, where Rashid had ridden on a white horse, across the great expanse of some unknown desert to rescue him from his old master. His Teacher had ridden into the room Abdule was being punished in, gleaming sickles raised above his head as he called a battle cry and decapitated his old master. In the dream, Rashid had been wearing a cloak to keep the sand from his eyes and Abdule had added that feature to the Mecha as well. A long brown cape cloaked half the machine, obscuring it from view as it rested silently in its alcove.

Finally, there was Nataku. She was the last to be built, and in fact, he'd built it especially for Wufei. When the young Recruit had been taken in, none had known a thing about his past. But one night, on a day that held such significance to Wufei, the younger boy had confessed to once having a wife, a woman he hadn't been able to protect called Nataku. He'd called her a warrior, and Abdule had needed no more prompting. He'd designed the sleek dragon looking Mecha the very next day, showing Wufei the plans and asking the younger boy's opinion the entire way through her design.

"You built all these yourself?" Quatre had stopped back by Sandrock, and Abdule shook himself from his reminiscence and walked back to the blonde's side.

"I wish! Naw, I designed their outer hulls, you know, how they look. Wing was my first one, a challenge. You'd like her, Quatre; she changes into a bird! No lie! I'll have to call you in the next time Heero takes her out, he's amazing with her. I've never seen anyone pilot better than Heero, never. But I digress. As I said, I didn't build them all myself, but a lot of their design I'm a part of. This happens to be the one thing I'm good at, making mobile suits." He smiled.

"I think…you're good at lots of things. You make good shakes." Quatre rushed the last part of the statement and Abdule could have hugged the caring young man before him. Quatre was an odd twist of a boy. He required comfort but didn't ask for it, and offered comfort when it wasn't asked for but needed. He knew it had to do with Quatre's empathy, and though he'd been raised to hate and fear empaths he could do neither in conjunction with Quatre. The boy was simply too fragile.

He nodded his head at Quatre's statement before looking up at the Mecha Quatre had stopped in front of. "You know, I've never told this to anyone before, but Sandrock, she's my favorite. She always reminds me of some kind of angel. I know I should think that about Wing, since that old bird really does have wings, but Sandrock's quieter about her beauty, about her ability to save others. I think of her as judgment you know, like she gazes upon those around her and choose those worthy to continue. Now I'm sounding like I'm talking about Deathscythe, since that one's all about death. But, I don't know…Sandrock has the ability to pass judgement on those around her, but also the ability to forgive. She's an odd combination of destruction and hope. Listen to me! Talking like she's going to start swinging gavels or something! Don't tell anyone I said that, ok. I'd have to feed you cinnamon from now until forever." He smiled to let the boy know he was teasing, but Quatre already knew.

Then, suddenly, Quatre's eyes got a very distant and hollow look to them. The boy seemed to freeze in place for a moment before slowly turning his unfocused eyes back towards Sandrock. And then, as if caught in a sudden dream, the blond moved unseeing towards the Mecha. Startled and frightened he called Quatre's name. "Quatre? Are you ok?" But Quatre didn't answer, just continued to move towards the machine. The strange expression had come over him so immediately that Abdule was half-afraid of what it meant. "Quatre?"

"Quatre."

At the new voice, Abdule turned quickly, catching sight of the other new Recruit—Trowa—walking calmly towards them. Confused by the boy's presence, he turned back towards Quatre to try and get the boy's attention, only to find that Quatre was staring directly at the newcomer.

It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. With feline grace, Trowa moved towards Quatre, until he was standing directly in front of him. Their eyes locked into place and Abdule watched, stunned and fascinated, as Quatre lifted his hand to touch Trowa's. At the contact though, the strange force that held him seemed to lift from Quatre, and the boy blinked rapidly as he turned his face up and looked startled into Trowa's face.

Tall and thin, far too thin to be healthy, Trowa stood a good head taller than Quatre, with auburn hair in an odd cut that wore clipped but natural in the back, with long spiky bangs that covered half his face when he turned in just such a way. His manner was slow, almost carefree to the casual observer, but to someone who'd been owned in the past, Abdule knew he walked like a man anticipating danger in everything and reacting cautiously. He wore a pair of tight fitting blue jeans and a dark turtleneck sweater that must have been extremely uncomfortable in their eighty-degree weather. His skin was tan and Abdule noted that it was natural, his true coloring rather than from the sun's rays. But it was Trowa's expression as he gazed at Quatre that caused warning bells to go off in Abdule's head.

It was a look of utter and total need. A look that encompassed desire, as well as nurturing, both in the sense of companions and long time friends. The crystal clear green eyes were focused so entirely on Quatre's that Abdule doubted either boy noticed that they were not alone. In stunned fascination he watched as the taller boy moved to place his hand against Quatre's cheek, and watched in even more awe as Quatre let him.

But whatever spell Trowa worked upon Quatre lessened as the boy blinked again, before taking a step back. Then, as if changing his mind, Quatre retraced the step, moving even closer to Trowa than he'd been previously. Eyes staring at the simple pattern of Trowa's sweater, Quatre spoke, and Abdule listened in something akin to fear at his little brothers statements, and Trowa's return replies.

"I know you."

"And I know you."

"Where have you been?"

"Missing."

"Have I found you?"

"Not yet."

"When?"

"Soon, but not now."

"Why can't I remember?"

And then Trowa smiled, his hand gently brushing golden bangs from Quatre's forehead.

"It isn't time yet. We both have a lot to learn."

"It's been so long."

"Time, it isn't important, Little One."

"Do you remember how to play?"

"I remember."

"Will we be forced to play together?"

"Of course."

Quatre signed then, letting his eyes drift closed.

"Do you see it?"

"I see you." It was a statement of fact, and Abdule suddenly realized that it was an exact answer to Quatre's question. But Quatre was continuing.

"Will it be very horrible this time?"

"Isn't it always?"

Quatre signed again.

"Things are so different this time."

Trowa offered another smile to the smaller boy.

"Not so different. We'll find our way."

"Can you be sure?"

"Yes."

A pause, and then this time, Trowa asked a question.

"Are you…adjusting?"

"They're kind, and treat me well. I didn't like it before coming here."

"You weren't supposed to."

"And you? Are you fairing well?"

"He is also kind. I am well."

"I'm glad."

"As am I for you."

Suddenly, Quatre seemed very sad.

"I'll forget in a moment, won't I?"

"As will I. But don't be afraid, it will come in time, very soon."

Quatre nodded, and then so did Trowa before both boys bowed their heads, their eyes closing lazily, as if afraid to truly shut. When Quatre looked up, it was as if he hadn't been talking to this boy like an old friend for the last five minutes. Startled, he took a step back but tripped over his own feet, the shoes he was now wearing, tripping him up. With reflexes Abdule could not see, Trowa moved, catching Quatre before he came even close to the floor. They stared at each other for a long moment before Quatre let out the breath he was holding and Trowa seemed to shake himself from his stupor.

Realization dawned on the older boy as Trowa straightened, pulling Quatre into an upright position beside him, steadying the blond with a firm grip of his shoulders.

This time, when Trowa spoke, it was soft, a voice almost without emotion except for the tiniest bit of concern. "Are you alright?"

Dumbly, Quatre nodded before stepping away from the other boy. For a long moment they stared at each other as if trying to decide if they knew one another, before Trowa finally shrugged his shoulders, turned, and walked away.

Stunned beyond all sense of the word, Abdule walked quickly to Quatre's side and clasped his brother on the shoulder. "Are you ok, Quatre? What was all that about?"

But Quatre looked more confused than ever, until finally he turned to look away from the direction Trowa had gone, back towards the bulk of Sandrock, before turning just slightly towards Heavyarms. When he spoke, his voice was distant.

"Neither Heavyarms nor Sandrock have pilots yet, do they, Abdule?" Surprised by the question and its timing, he could do little else but answer.

"No, not yet."

"But the others, they have pilots already don't they." A statement, and Abdule could only turn and nod to the boy.

"Heero, Duo and Wufei, Wing, Deathscythe, and Nataku." Quatre spoke it as if in some kind of strange dream, his voice a thousand miles away.

"How-how did you know that, Quatre?"

"The design changes, the names do not."

"Quatre? What do you mean?"

But Quatre seemed to shake once again out of his stupor. With a violent shudder, he suddenly collapsed against Abdule who barely managed to catch him. It was then that Abdule noted the flushed cheeks and sweat that covered his fellow Recruit.

"Quatre! Are you alright? Quatre, what's wrong?"

Weakly, Quatre struggled to keep his eyes open as his breathing began to become labored. "I-I do-don't feel…Abdule?" The way Quatre said his name, like a pray and plea all at once, had him rising with Quatre nussled against his chest.

"Hold on, Quatre. It's going to be ok. Everything's going to be ok." On desperate feet, he carried Quatre quickly back home. By now, Rashid should be there. He'd take Quatre back to Rashid, back to his Teacher. Rashid would know what to do.

"It's going to be ok, Quatre. Rashid will take care of us, don't worry. Rashid will make everything better. Promise."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Rashid had been discussing Quatre with Master Habsaba for hours now, trying to decipher the strange emotions he felt concerning the boy.

"I am sorry, Master. I cannot help but feel…jealous of their closeness."

Habsaba smiled softly to the younger man. "Rashid, it is never easy to understand the mind of one so young as Quatre. You are many ages apart, and it is understandable that he would seek Abdule's approval and companionship. But I do not sense that Quatre's understanding wavers. He knows you are his Teacher. Abdule, he recognizes as peer to him, no matter what the difference in their learned levels of Recruit. He is a boy with little knowledge of human behavior and so immediately seeks the companionship of those like him, in age if nothing more."

"I know this Master. I did not expect this to be as difficult as it has become."

"Rashid," rising from his chair with difficulty, Habsaba moved, placing a comforting hand on his once Recruit's shoulder. "He will not be like you. The bond between the two of you will grow with time. He will accept you."

Turning quickly, Rashid covered his Master's hand. "Habsaba, I did not mean--"

"Of course you didn't. But listen to me, Rashid. Quatre feels in ways you've only understood through witnessed events and books. You understand how to control his abilities in a very basic way, but once he begins to understand them on his own you will not be able to manipulate him as you have. Then you will see. He will bond with you, Rashid, perhaps stronger than any Recruit ever has in our ranks. The connection will come, with time." Slowly, Rashid helped his master back to the comfortable chair in the fire lit room.

Kneeling down, Rashid addressed his Master with regret. "I will eternally be sorry for our time together, Master. I--"

"No, Rashid, you must never say that. Ours was not a healthy match. Many times I wished another would approach and call The Rite of Placement, but none did, and so your early years were harder than they should have been. But you are stronger for them now. Every moment of my life am I proud of you, proud to say you were my Recruit; no matter how we failed to find our way. But our trials will not be the same for you and Quatre. Your bond is strong with Abdule and together you will succeed where no others could. Remember what I told you, Rashid--Quatre must be handled with care. He is more than even you or I could ever hope to understand."

"But how do you know this?"

For a moment Habsaba was quiet, then he drew a deep breath and sighed. "I have seen many visions of Quatre and Trowa." 

When Habsaba said no more, Rashid moved to prompt him.

"Habsa--"

"RASHID!" With a loud bang, the door burst open and a breathless Abdule stumbled in, his sides heaving from the strain on his body. Cheeks flushed, his Recruit painfully struggled to draw air into his lungs as Rashid quickly rose to his feet to go to his lover.

"Abdule, what is wrong? Where is Quatre?" There was a second of panic as he let his emotions cloud his judgment before he paused and regained his senses. Falling apart in front of Abdule would only serve to frighten his Recruit further.

Swallow after swallow impeded Abdule's ability to speak until finally he'd cleared his airway. "It's Quatre! He-he's sick!"

Rashid didn't need to hear anymore. With a stride as large as his giant frame, he moved quickly, leaving Abdule in Habsaba's care, his earlier conversation with his Teacher and Master now forgotten.

His race across the camp passed him in a blur, and he heard his name only to ignore it. This was twice now Quatre had needed him and twice he'd not been there. Rashid refused to allow Quatre to suffer the same fate he and his Teacher had.

At the keypad he punched in his code and stepped through into the hallway. He barely registered the tall form of Treize as he leaned against the wall, his body dominating that of a much smaller Wufei. He heard his name again, but moved ahead, brushing off Trieze's hand as the younger man tried to make him pause. He didn't even think about his code as he depressed the keys, all he needed to see was Quatre.

A moment later, Rashid rushed into the bedroom, only to discover the bed empty, the sheets ruffled and tossed about. Turning he moved towards the bathroom, but abandoned that space quickly as the lights were off and no one was inside. The living room was no different as he back-tracked, and Quatre's bedroom revealed nothing. He tried the main bathroom without success before moving to the only space he hadn't checked, the prayer room.

Inside he found Quatre, a blanket from the couch he hadn't noticed missing, wrapped around his slight frame. Inside the folds of fabric, Rashid watched Quatre tremble as he quickly approached the kneeling boy.

"Quatre, it is Rashid, can you hear me?" There was no response, and Rashid quickly moved to kneel in front of the shivering boy. He was stunned by what he saw. Though no sound came from his lips, Quatre was praying. Rashid watched the Arabic language move red lips and flushed cheeks, watched as brief glimpses of teeth showed in the words, or the slow hiss of labored breathing as Quatre struggled to take in oxygen. It didn't register that while Rashid knew Arabic as most Arabs did, this Arabic was archaic, the language making little sense even if cared to listen.

Carefully, Rashid reached his hand out to brush Quatre's shoulder--he received no response. Puzzled and beyond worried by the obvious fever the boy was running, Rashid decided on a new course of action.

Standing, he leaned over until he had his arms under Quatre's legs, then lifted him slowly off the ground. Shifting the boy into a more comfortable position, he left the prayer room and headed towards the bedroom, he met Abdule as the younger man was coming through the door.

"Rad, is he ok?" There was panic in Abdule's voice, but Rashid didn't have time to reassure him.

"Follow me." Together they entered the bedroom, and Rashid carefully peeled back the covers, placing Quatre inside and immediately bundling him tightly. Turning, he instructed Abdule. "Go into the bathroom and bring me back some cold, water-soaked, washcloths. Once that is done, I want you to take a hot shower, then eat something with protein. When finished, I want you to come straight to bed. With Quatre sick you will need your rest."

"But Rad--"

"Do as I have instructed, Abdule. You will most help Quatre if you are well." He knew his oldest Recruit followed the logic, it was written in the stubborn look in his eye.

"You can't handle him sick all on your own! It's taken both of us to deal with Quatre when he's well! Why won't you let me help you?" There was hurt in his voice, and Rashid had to school his features to keep from wincing at the pain in his lover's voice. How could he explain things to Abdule, the real fear and terror he had that Quatre wouldn't bond properly with him? That Abdule would somehow become the one Quatre went to when he needed someone? It was an irrational thought. He was not like his old Teacher, and Quatre was no where near like himself. But the fear would not stay away, and the adoring looks he'd watched Quatre send to Abdule twisted his heart with a strange kind of bitterness. He knew he had to get over these feelings quickly, before they destroyed any chance his new family had together.

"Abdule, I am trying to make Quatre understand that…he must come to realize that I am…it--"

"I know what you're not telling me, Rashid." The dark quality of Abdule's tone caught him off guard, as did the equally dark laugh that followed. "This isn't going to work is it? We're going to turn out just like all the others that tried two Recruits. We'll all end up hating each other--"

"NO! Abdule, that will not happen." Without pause, Rashid stood and moved to envelop his first Recruit. "I…admit it is hard for me when Quatre chooses your company repeatedly over my own, but I will adjust, as will Quatre. Something from my past concerns me, and it has me believing the past will repeat itself, but that will not happen. It is not something I wish to discuss now, but know that I am handling it, if not poorly. I am sorry I caused you to doubt me and our family."

Abdule sighted, leaning into his Teacher. "We're just closer in age, that's all, Rad. We just speak the same language. He's still so new at all of this that he hasn't figured out who's the boss yet, he will."

Rashid smiled for the first time in hours. "Perhaps you are right. Forgive me for being such a blind fool. Time will sort out our lives, now we must attend to Quatre…together." Rashid's heart lightened at Abdule's returning smile.

"Good, now that you're not being so pig headed about it, I'll go get the washcloths, you find another blanket, poor thing's still shivering like it isn't eighty degrees in here." That said, both men got to work.

***

It was five am the next morning when Rashid awoke to find Quatre missing. He'd let Abdule help tend to Quatre, but drew the line at his first Recruit sleeping beside his newest. There were too many germs that Quatre had no immunity to, and while he'd been inoculated when coming aboard the station, there was no telling what viruses Abdule was carrying that Quatre's already taxed system could not combat. It was bad enough Quatre had to sleep next to him, but there was no way Rashid was going to let go of the boy tonight.

Quatre had continued to shiver and shake well past the time Rashid finally fell asleep. The fever had worsened but hadn't become dangerous. He'd forgone Abdule's request to take Quatre to the infirmary, instead opting to see how the night went.

But as Rashid sat up and shifted out of bed, he wondered if he shouldn't have taken Quatre in the night before. With gentle pressure he awoke Abdule. When he was sure his lover was awake, Rashid stood, donned a robe, and checked the bathroom. Finding no sign of Quatre, he crossed paths with a now wide-awake Abdule, and together they moved to check the living room.

They found Quatre standing, with his back to them, in the middle of the living room--naked.

Scattered around him were his articles of clothing, loose cotton pants crumpled in disarray. Immediately, Rashid noticed Quatre's shaking form. As he watched silently, wave after wave of tremors raced through his body, and he could see the streams of sweat as they formed tributaries down his body. The carpet around Quatre's feet was discolored with the fluid, and Rashid knew Quatre had been standing in that one place for some time now.

But the frightening part was the boy's arms. They were moving. In stunned silence, Rashid and Abdule watched as Quatre's fingers moved over an imaginary violin. It was so intense, the movements of Quatre's emaciated body as it struggled to fight the fever and attack the mental cords of his desperate song.

He had not seen Quatre's face yet, but Rashid knew it would be tensed in complete concentration. He recalled that Quatre had commented on using his music to escape; now all Rashid had to do was call him back.

Slowly he stepped forward, wanting Quatre to notice his presence before he spoke to him. But the closer he got the faster he understood that Quatre was not sensing him. Now truly worried about Quatre, Rashid spoke for the first time to the boy.

"Quatre."

The reaction was immediate. In a flurry of movement, Quatre swung around, his eyes wild as they searched Rashid in a crazed manner. His body shifted into a crouch, his hands becoming like claws as they moved to poise in front of his body. The sweat continued to drip, the boy's damp hair making him look anything but human.

But the look lasted only a moment, before Quatre stood straight. His body began to transform from the wild boy to one of a well-disciplined heavily tutored young man. For a moment Rashid didn't understand the movement, but he finally recognized it as a bow when Quatre suddenly bent at the waist.

He tried to smile at Quatre, to dispel the boy's fears, but the look that Quatre's eyes held as he stood sent a spear of cold ice straight into his heart.

Fear.

"Hello, Father. Have you come to change me?" Quatre's voice was steady except for the slight chatter of his teeth, and again Rashid felt his heart wrench at the sight.

Grief stricken, he heard Abdule draw in breath, a slight sob catching in his throat, but as Abdule moved to touch Quatre, Rashid stopped him. In a quiet tone, he whispered. "Look at his eyes, Abdule, he does not know what he is saying." He watched carefully, as Abdule did as instructed and held back his own pain when Abdule understood.

Turning, he addressed Quatre. "Quatre, I am not your father, you know who I am. I am Rashid, your Teacher." His voice was soft and even, no fluctuations to alert Quatre.

But the blond shook his head. Eyes glazed he answered. "I'll pass this time, Father. Wait and see. I'm sure this test will be different. Please test me again, I promise I won't fail. I promise." The look in his eyes was crazed and for a moment Rashid feared Quatre would become agitated, but the boy simply stood there, neither saying another word nor moving.

Rashid tried again. "Quatre, I am not here to test you. Try to remember I am your Teacher, and you are aboard the Maguanac's station. Abdule is your fellow Recruit as well. Try to remember. I will not hurt you."

Again Quatre shook his head. "I'll pass this time, Father. Please, don't give up on me. I'm a good son, I am. Please, please test me again, I'll pass, Father, I'll pass!" There was such painful pleading in Quatre's voice then; it was too much for Abdule.

Moving before Rashid could stop him, Abdule approached Quatre. "Quatre, we're not going to hurt you. Everything's going to be ok--" The moment his hand touched Quatre's bare shoulder it was all over.

In a rush of arms and legs, Quatre was flailing wildly, his fingers like claws, attacking Abdule. The screaming was incredible. It was instinctual, as if coming from Quatre's very soul. The sound shook the walls, pounding into Rashid with the force of Mecha thruster engine.

Stepping forward, he grabbed Abdule by the shoulder and yanked him behind his massive frame, but still Quatre screamed. It didn't take long for him to decipher what Quatre was saying.

"EVILCHILDEVILCHILDEVILCHILDEVILCHILDEVILCHILD!"

Evil Child.

He didn't even know he'd done it until he had already accomplished the task. With reflexes borne from too long in the field, Rashid had grabbed Quatre, encircling the boy's waist with his massive arms. He wasn't prepared for what Quatre did, however.

He stopped. The screaming, the struggling, stopped; nothing but the chattering of his teeth and the constant tremors of his body. Now, frightened more than ever before, Rashid ran his large hands through Quatre's matted blond hair.

"Quatre, Young One, listen to me. I am not your father, and you are not an evil child. You are a warrior of Allah, a boy who will become a man, a defender of nations. Quatre, can you hear me?" But Quatre was silent, the chattering his only answer.

Finally, Rashid turned to Abdule. "Go quickly. Get Wufei and bring him here. I will try to cool Quatre's fever in the shower." When Abdule hesitate at leaving his brother, Rashid insisted. "Abdule go now!"

With infinite care, Rashid rose with Quatre tucked securely in his arms. He noted the sound of Abdule scrambling to his feet, the hiss of the hydraulic locks of the main door, but they passed as if in shadow. As he walked, he softly continued his talks to Quatre.

"You are sick right now, Quatre, ill from new germs. You must not panic. Remember I promised to care for you, to protect you. Young One, you will be all right. I know you do not feel well now, but be calm, you will feel better soon."

He threw the heat lamps on the moment he entered the bathroom. With strength and care, he shifted Quatre into one arm as he turned on the water, setting it to a cooler temperature. Carefully, he shifted Quatre from arm to arm as he removed the robe he'd hastily thrown on. That accomplished, he maneuvered them both into the shower.

Quatre's screaming took him completely by surprise.

The now wet boy was struggling, his mouth opened in a grotesque way as the sound of pain and terror flew from his lungs. Wet from sweat and water, Quatre slipped from Rashid's grip to land on his feet. Quickly, the boy moved, faster than Rashid could follow. He sense the huddled mass of Quatre quickly enough however.

Shivering and frightened, the water temperature more than he could bare, Quatre was pressed flush against Rashid's back, his hands tucked into the curve of his spine. Rashid couldn't help the breath he drew at the intimate contact.

Shaking his head in denial of his body's brief laps, he turned, leaning over Quatre in an attempt to shield him from the spray and gain his attention.

"Qua--" He didn't get a chance to finish.

As he'd turned, Quatre had looked up, and for the first time that night, there was recognition there. The boy's eyes were liquid ice, but they locked onto his and refused to let go. For a long breath they stared at each other, neither looking away, both recognizing and not recognizing the other. Finally, Quatre broke the contact.

With jerky movements and ragged breaths, Quatre stepped forward and into the arms Rashid didn't know he'd opened for the boy. In a silent prayer to Allah, Rashid wrapped Quatre securely against his frame and slowly turned them so that Quatre was once again immersed in the cooling spray. The boy's body jerked in response and his arms tighten-up closer to his body, but he did not cry out.

With patient hands, Rashid stroked the water through Quatre's hair, mindful of the tangles that had developed in his restless sleep. It took him a moment, but he finally realized that he was humming an old Arabic lullaby, and curiously, Quatre was humming it as well, their voices merging and resonating.

They were like this for longer than Rashid would have expected it to take Abdule to find Wufei. He began to worry, when Quatre suddenly shifted, his hands going to rest on Rashid's waist instead of against his stomach. There was a pause and then Quatre was looking up at him, a bit more sanity in his eyes. The boy tried twice to speak, but the trembling of his lips prevented it. Rashid knew Quatre's fever was high, too high to be even remotely considered healthy, and Quatre's tremors only furthered his fears.

Finally, Quatre managed three words, three small words that forever sealed the boy in Rashid's heart. They were whispers, but true to Quatre's very soul.

"Don't leave me."

Clutching the boy tightly, Rashid shook his head.

"I will never leave you, Quatre. You are the only one who will ever leave between us."

There was no nod, no mark of understanding, but Rashid felt that Quatre understood. His shaking continuing, Quatre rested his head against the bottom of Rashid's ribcage--the comfortable resting place for his head when he stood next to the giant--and sighed softly, doing his best to stay warm.

Rashid felt the pressure change of the room five minutes later when the door opened. Seconds later, the shower door opened, and Treize stood there, his arms holding open a towel to the water logged boy in his arms. Rashid raised an eyebrow at Treize's appearance over Abdule.

"Abdule had to find us. Wufei is currently tending to Trowa who has also become gravely ill. The whole camp knows about them now. I made Abdule stay in the infirmary with Master Habsaba and the others while I came to help you. How is he?"

Rashid shook his head. "Not well. He is running a very high fever and seems to be hallucinating."

Treize nodded. "Abdule said as much. Trowa's exhibiting the same signs. We need to get Quatre to Wufei immediately."

Both men in agreement, they wordlessly decided to pass Quatre to Treize--they might as well have handed the boy over to Satan himself.

"NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!" In a flurry of struggles and clawed movements, Quatre tried to tear himself from Treize's grasp, while the once aristocrat held strong and Rashid stood stunned. The boy's next words prompted Rashid into action. "NO! Rashid, don't leave me! I'll be good! I'll be good! Don't let Father take me back! Don't send me back to Father! Please!!!"

He had Quatre in his arms before the thought was complete.

"Hush, Quatre. Shhhh. You are safe. Hush Young One. Quatre, do not be afraid. I am here, shhhhhh." Quatre's reaction was immediate as he calmed down in Rashid's arms.

It was horrible, cruel and tyrannical of him, but as Quatre lay shivering in his arms, Rashid could not help but be pleased that the boy had called for him. He fought the swell of pride that diseased thought brought him and focused instead on stepping from the shower and calming the startled Treize.

"I told you, Quatre seems not to recognize his surroundings. Please bring me a pair of pants from the other room so we can take him to the infirmary and Wufei's care."

Ten minutes later, Rashid was carrying a shivering and unresponsive Quatre through the medical bay doors. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

On a bed across from him was the boy, Trowa. His body was nearly nude, pale and sickly, the track marks commented on before were now prominent against his skin. There was the hissing of the ventilator as it struggled to breathe for the boy, while IV's pumped liquids and medicines into his failing system.

Beside the boy, hands clasping one of Trowa's in a silent prayer, was Ralph. The man was large, tall and built, with a crop of dark brown hair and rugged handsome good looks. But now his face was drawn, the redness of his eyes attesting to forced back tears. His hands shook as they held Trowa's--the image of a Teacher faced with the possibility of losing his Recruit.

In a chair a good distance from Trowa's bed sat Master Habsaba. The old man sat with his eyes closed, his lips moving in a silent pray of his own. By his feet knelt Abdule, his lover's hand wrapped securely in his Master's. Abdule seemed to be transfixed on Trowa, his eyes following the slow rise and fall of the young man's chest.

Next to Abdule stood Zechs, and beside him was Heero. Duo was wrapped securely in Heero's arms, while the longhaired boy wore an expression of dawning horror.

The hiss of the door announced his presence and Wufei moved into his line of sight and immediately moved to examine Quatre. Rashid began to tell him all he knew.

"Quatre was fine this morning. Abdule took him to the hanger at about midday. By late afternoon, Quatre was running a high fever. I put him to bed, but woke up to him missing. He seems to be hallucinating, and his temperature is too high." So clinical, as if this boy was just another in a long line of sick boys. But Rashid prided himself on remaining calm, and as he watched Abdule's tear filled eyes, he knew he had no choice but to be strong.

Wufei nodded. "Trowa had the same symptoms earlier this evening. Put Quatre on that bed over there by Trowa's." Once Quatre was situated, and Wufei had attached an IV and other monitors, he continued. "The battery of tests I ran on both of them when they arrived showed that Trowa is in the advanced stages of AIDS. I began treatments on him immediately, but this is too soon. If he'd only gotten sick in a few weeks he'd stand a better chance, but his body is too weak from the virus, he can't handle the strain of an infection this soon. I'd assumed he'd gotten something from Quatre once I'd learned they'd been in contact only hours before he became sick, but now I'm convinced. Given time Trowa's immune system would have overcome the AIDS virus, but his body is too weak right now."

"AIDS," Rashid questioned. "Isn't that a dead virus?" A hundred and fifty years ago the French had found a way to combat the virus that threatened to overcome the human race.

Wufei nodded. "For the most part it is, but those not inoculated are still susceptible. The tests I ran on Trowa indicate he's got dozens of viruses that should be considered 'dead' in the medical books. Most I believe are from his weakened immune system, but some haven't been seen for the last fifty years. Duo made a suggestion and I agree. Trowa must have been using drugs to combat the pain from his illnesses, hence the track marks. But I found diluted remnants of REHIV in his system--the only anti-virus capable of destroying AIDS. The only thing I can think of is that he knew he was carrying the AIDS virus and was taking the anti-virus to cure himself. But either he didn't know the right dosage or he wasn't getting enough. The virus has nearly destroyed all of his white blood cells, I'm surprised he could walk." There was both awe and respect in Wufei's voice, and Rashid looked over at Ralph to reassure his friend; he stopped cold at the tear tracks down the man's face.

For a moment Ralph was silent, and out of respect the room followed his lead, when he spoke, they all felt the pain of his words.

"It's…a blood disease, AIDS. There are only a few ways to get it. I asked Trowa about the drugs, he didn't say much--he never does--only that he was careful. I didn't understand what he meant, but now I do, he was telling me and I didn't understand. He was saying he used a hypo-spray to take them. You can't get blood diseases from hypo-sprays. He's also too old to have been born with the virus. Do you know what that means? Do you!?" The agitation was clear in Ralph's voice, and Rashid immediately felt his pain. "Those bastards did this to him. One of those fuckers had the virus and they gave it to him. I kept trying to figure out why he was so quiet, why he did his best not to flinch whenever I raised my hand. When I offered him dinner, he looked at me like I was crazy, like he'd have to be half starving before he'd take it from me. But the other night he did, he was hungry, I could tell. He must have swallowed the whole thing in seconds, and his face, his face when I gave him more without comment, it was so painful to look at. He was afraid, I could see that, but also hungry. He ate it, and then went back into our tent. I finished with the dishes and followed him in a little later. I didn't understand, it's my fault because I didn't understand. He was sitting by my mat, just sitting there, calm and distant, this far away look in his eye, but he was tense, really frightened, but I didn't see that at the time. I didn't get it, I didn't understand what those mother-fuckers must have done to him for food. I called him over to the table and played a few hands of cards with him. Cards! How stupid could I have been? He's expecting me to take my fill of him, and I tell him we're going to play card! I'll kill them! I'll track those child-raping bastards down and kill them with my bare hands!"

Silently, Rashid moved to comfort his friend. "It is not our place to bring death under these circumstances. Allah would not wish us--"

"Where was Allah when they hurt him, Rashid!? Where was our God when Trowa forced himself to remain calm beneath them?! I believe, I do. But how, how can Allah allow this to happen!? I know what he's been through, Rashid, I know! I always hated Segucia for not seeking revenge for me."

Rashid winced at the painful way Ralph spoke of his now departed Teacher. He tried again to reach Ralph as Wufei began his examination of Quatre. "None of us know why Allah causes some to suffer while others live privileged lives. But Trowa is strong, how else would he have survived for so long. He is a gift, just as Quatre and all the other Recruits are. Allah has sent them to us to be cared for, loved. We must show them that the past is meaningless compared to the future. Trowa will always bare the scares of his past, but with your love and compassion they will lessen until the time comes when he does not flinch at your touch, or fear your motives at the table. Give it time, Ralph, Trowa will understand."

"And if he has no more time, Rashid. What then?"

Rashid shook his head. "You cannot think that way. Believe in Allah, believe in Trowa."

From behind him, muffled and tear soaked, he heard Duo's voice. "But the others, Rashid. The other two Recruits from our Recruitment. They didn't last a week either. They both died that very first week. What if--"

"That will not happen here!" He knew desperation rang in his voice, knew he'd startled and even scared a few in the room. If he were honest with himself, he was terrified. The memory of those two young men still fresh in his mind.

Daniel and Masako. They were young, both not even ten years old. They'd been chosen in the last round of recruitments, but neither had lived to meet the council. Some strange illness had attacked both of them from almost the moment they'd been accepted into the ranks. They'd died in comas, neither awakening to experience the freedom of the world they'd finally been granted. Wufei had somehow known the youngest, Daniel. The boy's death had touched him immensely, prompting the Chinese boy to continue his medical studies, completing a degree faster than most could have dreamed.

Their deaths had haunted the ranks for the five years until this last recruitment. Most were silent about it, the memory too painful to recall, but Duo, who liked children, had always harbored some guilt at not befriending the two before their deaths. To a certain extent the young man felt responsible.

Heero pulled Duo more tightly against his body, offering his lover comfort both from his musings and Rashid's harsh tone.

"Duo, I am sor--"

A sudden and terrifying whining sound pierced the air, and Rashid barely had time to turn before Wufei was pushing past him to get to Trowa's body. The boy was seizing, his body tossing from side to side, up and down. Moving quickly, Rashid grabbed onto Trowa's legs, while Ralph braced his arms and Wufei held his head.

To Rashid, the shaking seemed to last hours when in reality it was only a matter of seconds. But none of them were prepared for what happened next.

Trowa's heart stopped.

In the time it takes a thought to process Wufei was in action. Calling out orders across the room, he had Heero rushing the crash cart over to the bedside, while Duo ran for the medical cabinet in search of some desperately needed medical supplies. With insistent pulls, Rashid managed to drag Ralph away from Trowa's side, the man desperate to hold his Recruit to him.

Then, the unthinkable happened. For a moment, the room went silent as the tones issued forth from both monitors. A steady tone that accompanied no clicks or blips. 

In transfixed terror, Rashid turned his eyes away from Trowa and toward Quatre. His Recruit's heart monitor had flatland as well.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Quatre was warm, so very warm, and extremely happy. Not wanting to open his eyes against the delicious floating feeling, he tightened his arms about the moldable flesh of his partner. Resting in his arms, Trowa sighed in contentment.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to hold this moment in place for as long as he could. It'd been so long since he and Trowa had been able to feel so free together. Their time in the Holy Lands had tested them greatly, but Quatre had made up his mind, and together they'd left Mohammed's home with but a parting kiss to Aisha.

She'd been so sad to see them go, but she'd known just as he had, Islam held no place for him but death. So he'd bid fair well to the wife of the Prophet and packed his belongings and wealth into a small band of pack animals and five men before leaving the desert behind.

But what a journey that had been. Nearly two years long, his party had made their way out of the lands of Islam and into ones considered friendly by his fellow comrades. Trowa had held his tongue about their destination, and Quatre knew that Trowa would follow wherever he led. His partner was like that, easy going until someone crossed him, or worse, tried to harm his lover.

Now, as he lay on a bed of pillows, comfortably wrapped in silks, Trowa's head pillowed on his chest, the gentle breath of his love against his bare chest, he knew the place didn't matter as long as Trowa was with him.

Elegant and pale fingers wound their way through Trowa's auburn hair, and Quatre closed his eyes against the delicious pleasure of it all. Their lust and love for each other had been a secret for nearly three years before the Prophet's death. In that time they'd been ever fearful of discovery, both of their lives hanging in the balance of their discretion. But with Mohammed's death also came the death of Quatre's promise of servitude, and with much regret towards Aisha, Quatre and the others had left.

Trowa must have sensed his thoughts because his partner sighed softly before flexing his fingers and sitting up. Trowa was most beautiful after having just awoken from a night of loving. His hair was an awkward jumble of tousled half curls, while his face was just beginning to show signs of stubble. He was rugged and dangerous to behold, but quiet simply the most beautiful man Quatre had ever known.

With a smile that was only for him, Trowa leaned down to welcome the morning with a long and passionate kiss. Quatre felt his body stir to life at the intimate gesture and he quickly moved to make this morning as memorable as the night had been.

His hands found Trowa's chest and softly kneaded the muscles encased in tanned and oiled skin. He listened with growing desire as Trowa's breathing quickened, his body pressing more firmly down upon Quatre's. Long fingers ran across Quatre's belly, to nestle in the downy hair at the roof of his sex. Without reservation or shyness, Quatre lifted his hips to the waiting touch of his love. The contact was wonderful, every one of his senses lighting up, every fiber of his body firing sensation after sensation. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as his hands found their way to the firm globes of Trowa's seat.

Pulling his lips from Trowa's, Quatre angled his head downwards, his tongue snaking out to taste the salty flesh of Trowa's neck. He heard his lover moan above him, and with gentle, firm teeth, Quatre nibbled at the juncture between neck and shoulder. He understood Trowa's immediate love of the game as he hardened instantly against Quatre's side. He moaned, showing Trowa with sound how much he loved their morning play; Trowa returned the call in kind.

Wanting this to last, but knowing it must be finished soon for the rest of the day to start, Quatre shifted, rising up and gently pushing Trowa into the warmth of the silks he's just vacated. There wasn't enough time to join their bodies completely, but as Quatre shifted down--his hands purposefully dragging down Trowa's chest, nails biting into flesh--and blew a whispered pray of thanks against Trowa's sex, he knew it would be enough for now.

With practice and love on his side, Quatre slowly surrounded Trowa. His hands, now down by Trowa's hips, alternated between holding his lover down and playfully arousing him more by kneading the lengthy man's inner thighs. 

And the sounds, the glorious sounds Trowa made in the heat of his passion. Slow, soothing sounds, rough, almost painful whimpers, all music Trowa made only for Quatre's ears. Throat relaxed and completely filled, Quatre began to move, slowly at first, wanting more than anything to continue this slow torture but knowing their time was almost up.

A deep and silent breath through his nose and he began again, the soft sounds of Trowa's native language spoken by the tall man as if a prayer. Carefully, so as not to end the game quiet yet, Quatre shifted upward, running his tongue over the delicious opening that issued life with its weeping. He felt insistent hands wind into his hair, and Quatre would have chuckled at Trowa's impatience if he hadn't suddenly felt the same need overcome him as well.

With increased urgency, he took Trowa deep into his throat once again, this time letting the hum of a soft lullaby vibrate through him and then through Trowa. His love's reaction was immediate. Hips spasmed wildly up, searching for the release they both craved. Holding firm, Quatre increased his tempo, urging Trowa with his song to come, to complete the piece.

When it finally came, the moment was beautiful. With a cry of completion, Trowa rose up, his greater strength lifting Quatre along with his hips as Trowa's seed burst forth, sending warm and desired fluid into Quatre's accepting body.

Softly, Quatre caressed Trowa's hip as his lover slowly returned to him. He sighed as Trowa's fingers began to play through his hair, the gesture always pleasant when Trowa did it. Feeling Trowa's gentle tug, Quatre shifted, draping his still aroused body over Trowa's as he moved up his partner. 

He watched Trowa become aware of his body's state. There was no embarrassment--their roles had been reversed many a time. There were no first or seconds, only turns that ended with satisfaction.

In a show of strength, Trowa flipped them, his long body once again pressing Quatre into the pillows. He loved this part of Trowa. Deceptively thin, Trowa's body was a powerhouse of strength as every muscle in his body was well toned and ready. Quatre's hands moved of their own accord, latching onto the muscles of Trowa's biceps. He had always been small and it fascinated him that his lover could be so strong and capable. He looked up into bright green eyes, and it was only in this moment of quiet appreciation, that Trowa blushed. Quatre smiled, Trowa never gave himself enough credit.

In a soft voice, Quatre whispered what he needed. "Trowa, touch me."

With a soft smile and a nod of understanding, Trowa shifted to Quatre's side, one long leg draped over both of Quatre's, and one strong hand moving slowly down his stomach. Trowa propped his body up to watch his lover's face, as he allowed his hand to surround Quatre's length.

He was so close already, but Trowa always had him like this. From the moment Quatre had first laid eyes on Trowa, he'd known it would be like this every time. With every firm stroke of Trowa's slave hardened palm, Quatre felt his world narrow more and more into emerald green. Trowa's eyes were intent upon him, their color magnificent and inspiring. Quatre felt his breathing hitch, his hips desperately rise and fall in a rhythm that only he and Trowa understood.

A sudden wave of unbearable pleasure shook him and Quatre gasped in delight. 

It was then that Trowa shifted closer, adding the length of his body to the stimulus Quatre was already receiving. There was another gasp of air and then a flash of light, before Quatre felt the passion-laced emotions from Trowa filter into his consciousness through their link. Love and devotion outweighing all the sands of the deserts crossed into his thoughts and pushed him over the final edge to paradise.

When he felt Trowa's emotions ease from his thoughts, he slowly opened his eyes and lazily smiled at his most precious lover. Trowa returned the smile. Their lips met somewhere in the middle, breaths mingling as they shared that special moment together.

With regret, Trowa pulled away and smiled down at his beloved. "Good morning, Quatre."

Quatre could only laugh as he pulled Trowa back for another kiss.

At the touch of their lips, the spell was broken.

Eyes wide with fear and confusion, Quatre pushed the other Recruit away, scrambling back from the boy. He saw Trowa move away as well, his eyes wide as they surveyed the changed scenery. The room they'd been in was now gone. The silks and pillows now replaced by an eerie blackness that surrounded them. It was as if there was a light shining directly on them but nothing more, and in the wide space of nothingness they were the only things they could see.

Breath coming in gasps, Quatre scurried to bring his legs closer to his body, doing his best to hide his naked state from the other. Trowa on the other hand was still surveying the space they now occupied, his eyes struggling to believe what his mind was telling him.

By some act of random movement, they found their eyes locked into place with each other's. Quatre was scared, terrified. He could remember the feelings he'd had as Trowa had touched him, remembered the joy he'd felt at bring this Recruit pleasure. It was as if he'd known Trowa, as if they'd known each other for years--longer! Only seconds ago he'd felt so comfortable with him, but now it was as if he were looking at a total stranger.

Surprisingly, Trowa spoke first. "What happened?"

Dumbly, Quatre shook his head. Taking that as an answer, Trowa seemed to nod to himself before standing.

And in that moment, that single second of life, Quatre realized why he never passed the reprogrammer's tests. 

Trowa was breathtaking. 

Long lean arms and legs, wide shoulders that would only enhance his body more as he aged, and a firm chest that Quatre distinctly remembered tasting. His breath caught in his throat as he tried and failed to force his eyes away. Before him was the image of a dream he'd never dared to have.

But Trowa must have sensed being stared at because he turned, catching Quatre literally with his mouth hanging open. There was a sudden and dark look that fell over Trowa's face, hardening his body and making him look at once dangerous and frightening.

Ashamed of his weakness, Quatre dropped his eyes, hanging his head in shame. But for some reason, a reason he couldn't understand, he found himself speaking.

"I-I'm sorry I stared. It's just…I've never seen anyone as…beautiful as you." His voice was a distant whisper, but something compelled him to look up.

He was surprised to see a startled look on Trowa's face, as if the other boy had not anticipated that kind of reaction. Then, as Quatre watched in awe, a bright pink blush fell across the other's face, traveling down his neck to brighten his upper chest.

The words were so quiet Quatre barely heard them. "Thank you."

With a smile Quatre had never given so freely, he nodded, standing himself to take a look around. He was supremely conscious of his nakedness and quickly turned his back on the other boy. The place they were in was like his satellite during the dark months, save for the fact that he could see himself and Trowa clear as day.

Closing his eyes, Quatre tried to remember the last thing he could before this place but couldn't, only the memory of his and Trowa's early morning encounter. Blushing, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the other boy.

"Do-do you remember…did we…" He couldn't say it, didn't know how.

From behind him came his answer. "I think so."

Quatre shivered involuntarily. He didn't know what to do. He was in a strange place, with a strange boy he'd only met twice, and had just had…what? Sex? Something more? It had been so wonderful, peaceful and loving; Quatre could still remember the glow of warmth that had pervaded his senses. But he didn't know where he was and he was scared, the only thing coming to his mind was to find Rashid.

"My Teacher, Rashid, he must be worried." He turned in time to see Trowa nod.

"My Teacher, Ralph, as well."

Suddenly the awkwardness returned and Quatre had to turn away from the intense feelings that fluttered through his system. He felt at ease with Trowa, but had no basis to understand what had just happened.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to find out. With a quick nod to himself and fast turn he was facing Trowa once again, only this time, he was back in the pillow and silk filled room.

Trowa, for his part, seemed just as startled as Quatre.

"W-what's happening?"

Trowa shook his head, he had no answers.

Then, in an odd feeling of peace, Quatre felt the situation come into focus. His manner changed. Shoulders squaring, the air about him filled with confidence as he uninhibitedly took a step towards Trowa. The change seemed to have some effect on Trowa as well because the taller boy turned then and opened his arms to the blond, enveloping him when Quatre got into range.

They were silent for a long time. Finally Trowa pulled away, and Quatre spoke.

"It's begun."

"But will it be enough? We won't remember once we awaken, only a memory of a dream will follow us back."

Quatre nodded, a quiet smile gracing his lips. "It is more than we had the first time. Trust in Him, we'll find our way."

Trowa looked less convinced but dropped his head, resting it instead against Quatre's, while the blond leaned his own head against Trowa's chest, listening to the beating of the heart he'd so longed to hear. Trowa's voice was quite as he spoke. "It was good to touch you again, my love."

"And you as well. We have been given a little of our pasts, it will be enough to begin things."

Trowa sighed. "But it will take so long. We both have so far to go before we can be together."

Quatre closed his eyes against the pain of that realization. "The only consolation I can offer is that, as the time approaches we'll become more and more aware of each other. I know this is hard, beloved, but it will all be worth it once it is finished." Soft lips found the sensitive skin at the side of Trowa's neck, and he moaned softly.

"Try hard not to forget me, Little One. I'll try as well. Perhaps if we try hard enough we'll remember more."

Quatre chuckled at Trowa's desire. "Beloved, we can only remember what He wills us to; but I will try my hardest to remember one thing about our time together."

Trowa tried to smile. "What's that?"

Gently Quatre lifted his hand to cover Trowa's chest. "The beating of your heart."

With tears in their eyes, their lips met and with their contact came a flash of bright white light.

***

"I CAN'T GET HIS HEART STARTED!"

With panicked desperation in his voice, Duo continued to compress Quatre's chest while Rashid supplied his Recruit with oxygen. Trowa had been gone for nearly three minutes, and Quatre had followed close behind. He didn't want to lose them, and he vowed to Allah that if Quatre made it through this, he'd be his best friend for the rest of Blonde's life!

Heero's voice was grim as he continued to pump the bulb of the respirator attached to Trowa. "Wufei, this isn't working."

Duo turned, his tear rimmed eyes catching sight of his two lovers as they worked to save one of their own. Wufei and Heero always tried to be so strong, only he knew their inner fears, their self-hatred and suicidal thoughts. They were both more delicate than they looked, and Duo knew the loss of these two would have a profound effect on both of them.

Finishing his last compression he signaled Rashid to give two breaths. He watched the blank face of his general lower, his lips opening to deliver a breath that would hopefully save Quatre's life. Rashid was so strong. Howard had once told him that Rashid had always been strong, even from the time he'd entered the camps. But where Duo considered that a great accomplishment, Howard had seemed extremely saddened by the statement of fact. Curious, he'd questioned his Teacher.

"Rashid came in a man, the way he's always been, and he stayed that way. He was ten when he entered, a man even then. He never had a chance to be a child, never in his life. That strength you think is so incredible, it came with a great sacrifice. Heero's found a way to get around it thanks to you and Wufei, but Rashid never had the chance. He's a soldier, he'll always be a soldier."

A sudden and dramatic beeping broke Duo from his memories, and with a hopeful expression he lifted his head to look above Quatre's bed to the cardiac monitor. There it was bright, green and the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, Quatre's heartbeat. With a turn of his head, he saw that just as Quatre's monitor was now registering a heartbeat, so was Trowa's.

With a whoop of joy, Duo slid off the bed he'd been kneeling on for stability and leverage. In a rush, he ran to Master Habsaba and hugged him, then turned to offer comfort to his friend Abdule. But the older man was staring much the same way that Duo noticed everyone else was, back towards the two bedridden Recruits.

Disgruntled at the serious expressions on everyone's face, Duo jumped up and started waving his arms around. "Hey! What's the long faces for?! Look, they made it! They're going to be OK!" But the room was still silent, and in complete aggravation he turned to get an answer from his lovers.

"Guys what's the deal? The beeping is a good sound, right?"

For a moment Wufei was silent, but finally, his oldest lover turned to answer him, his face white as snow. "Duo, look at the monitors."

Exacerbated, Duo turned and looked from one monitor to the other. Both were registering cardiac signals. "They're alive, Wufei! Why do you guys all look like you've just seen a ghost?"

Oddly, it was Rashid that answer him, and in such a way that Duo too was forced to do nothing but stare at the monitors in fear, wonder, and confusion.

"Their hearts are beating in exactly the same rhythm."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Five days later, both Recruits were still drifting in light comas. Three days ago, had they been able, both Quatre and Trowa would have stood before the council for placements, but that fateful meeting had been postponed until they were well.

The camp had rallied behind their fallen comrades. Though only Recruits for a little over a week, both Quatre and Trowa had become a part of the Maguanac family from the moment the Great Gates had been closed. Now, ninety-eight men prayed for their safe recovery, but more than the rest were two.

Abdule walked silently next to his Teacher. Rashid had been at Quatre's bedside since the boy had taken ill. He'd been hard pressed to get Rashid to take the occasional shower--let alone a hot meal. But Wufei had insisted that Rashid was of no use to him if not fed and rested, so the young doctor had gone to Master Habsaba who had that afternoon ordered Rashid to rest, shower and feed, all in one sitting.

But now they were returning--one failed sexual attempt between them. Abdule walked silently, knowing his Teacher was on edge and hating the fact that he couldn't seem to do anything to help. He wanted to shake Rashid, to remind him that he wasn't the only one hurt by Quatre's sudden illness, that he'd thought of the little Recruit as something more than just a housemate; that the boy had become something special to him. But it was as if his lover walked in a haze, unmindful of the pain around him--only in him.

When they entered the hospital room he didn't even move to go to Quatre's side, knowing Rashid would want to sit next to him. Instead he moved to the floor next to Master Habsaba's feet, resting his head on the older man's knee, feeling gnarled fingers work softly through his short hair.

The defeated and nearly broken voice that spoke was that of his Teacher. "Has there been any change?"

From the corner of the brightly lit medical facility, Wufei arrived carrying a syringe. There was a brief shake of his head before he moved to inject the medicine into Trowa's IV.

Trowa. Twice more the young man had gone into a seizure. Each time the room held its breath, waiting for the high pitched whine that would mean his heart had stopped. But it didn't, and like before, it continued on the exact same rhythm as Quatre's. It was too strange, too amazing to image how their heartbeats had aligned so perfectly. Wufei said it was nothing but coincidence, but Abdule had his own ideas.

There had been something in the way Quatre and Trowa had talked to each other that afternoon six days ago. It'd been so strange, as if they'd known each other and yet, couldn't remember how. He'd kept silent about the encounter he'd witnessed. Quatre had become so ill afterwards, and there hadn't been time to really explain what he'd seen since then. There was that, and also the fact that he couldn't be sure he'd actually seen anything. Maybe it'd been nothing, a meeting of two Recruits for the first time, but something in that explanation rang false to him, he just knew it.

"He'll hate this you know. He'll look at me with those eyes that say, 'I'm not afraid to die.' They'll be full of accusation, I just know they will." Ralph had tried to remain strong. He'd remained up beat, continuously telling Rashid that the children would awaken in minutes. But as minutes had turned to days, his optimism had slowly crumbled into doubt. His newest prophecy was that Trowa would hate him for keeping him alive. There was no basis for this argument, but Ralph seemed to think Trowa would have been happier dead. Habsaba ended that thought quickly.

"Whether they are or not is of no consequence. In time, under your care and love, Trowa will see that death is not the answer." There was such finality in his words, as if Habsaba spoke a truth he felt no wavering in. And that finality seemed to be all Ralph needed to hear.

"You're right, Master. Trowa will understand in time. He's just sick right now, but I'll show him later that everything will be alright." Abdule had to smile at the conviction in the man's voice. With a turn of his head however, his smile disappeared as he looked at Rashid.

Hunched over, his massive frame twisted in doubt, Rashid had one large hand against Quatre's bare chest. His humbling eyed were closed, and while Abdule couldn't hear it, he knew Rashid was praying for Quatre's recovery. Abdule only hoped it came soon, before it destroyed Rashid.

***

Duo was bored. He'd gone to lessens, finished his homework, bugged Howard, kissed Howard, made Howard promise to cook hotdogs for dinner, and now was completely out of people to annoy. Heero was working out, and as much as he loved his partner, he didn't relish being beaten up in the name of training. That left only Wufei, the other half of his absolute and total affections.

Standing outside the med. bay he considered the fact that his lover had a lot to do, what with both Quatre and Trowa still hanging out in Coma-land, but responsibility had never stopped Duo before.

Bursting into the room, he called out in his most joyful voice. "FEI! YOUR AMERICAN HONEY'S HERE!" When that got no response, he decided to investigate.

There wasn't much need on the satellite for doctors, most of the soldiers kept healthy on their own, which meant they didn't need that many doctors. Wufei was only one of two doctors in the corp. but in Duo's--and a lot of other people's opinion--the best. Ary was the other doctor, but at seventy-six years old, he was usually napping. As Duo opened the supply door he knew this wasn't going to be any different as he found Dr. Ary fast asleep in an extremely uncomfortable looking chair. Rolling his eyes, Duo decided not to awaken the doctor and moved on in hopes of finding Wufei.

He found the time charts instead and cursed himself for forgetting that Wufei had made special arrangements to test out Nataku's new thrust engines--he wasn't here. Sighing at his botched attempt at annoyance, Duo decided to check on the object of his newest obsession--Quatre.

Duo wasn't one to give up on his promises, and he'd made a promise to Allah that if Quatre lived, he'd become the kid's best friend, no ifs ans or buts about it. That didn't mean he didn't have his reservations about it though. Quatre was a strange duck, first the kid fell apart in a hallway when all he'd been trying to do was say hi, next he'd freaked out when Duo had brought him a video game. Quatre didn't have the greatest track record with Duo, but that wasn't going to stop him!

What did stop him was the sight he met as he opened the door to Quatre and Trowa's private room.

On legs that stood like iron, Trowa was leaning next to Quatre's bed, a strange almost tearful expression on his face. The taller boy had looked up when Duo had entered the room, but dismissing him as no threat, had turned back to Quatre.

Moving carefully, Duo shifted closer to the bed and realized that Trowa had one hand on the metal caging around Quatre's bed, the other however, was resting softly against Quatre's heart. There was a moment of silence for all in the room and Duo found himself oddly speechless, when suddenly, Trowa turned around and looked at him.

The first thing Duo noted was there was a tear running down Trowa's gaunt cheek. The second thing was the waver of pain and fear in Trowa's voice. The third was the full impact of what Trowa said in that voice.

"I can't get him to wake up."

Stunned, Duo absently shook his head before answering. "He's in a coma. You both have been for the last two weeks. We were starting to…we were worried about you both."

Silently, Trowa seemed to ponder that statement, before he shakily turned back to face Quatre. His voice was so lost when he spoke again. "I'm awake now. He should be awake now too. I-I keep trying…he has to wake up."

Worried, Duo took a step forward. "Trowa--"

"I can't do this without him!" Anguish, the kind that rips the soul apart and scatters it to the four winds. It was the sound of a broken young man who shouldn't have any reason to care about a tiny blond boy.

Shaking his head, Duo answered the only way he could. "Don't worry, Trowa, you're not going to have to. Quatre's going to wake up. You'll see. He just needs…he just needs time that's all. Listen, I'm going to go get Wufei, he's a doctor, remember him? He's been taking care of you and Quatre all along. I'm gonna go get him, and he'll figure out what's wrong with Quatre, OK? It's going to be OK, I promise, Quatre's going to be alright, and so are you."

With that Duo turned and ran from the room, his haste in finding Wufei preventing him from hearing Trowa's parting words.

"The healer can do nothing for my Luv."

***

Fifteen minutes later the whole camp knew of Trowa's recovery, and nearly every man ran to the viewing area of the infirmary to see the walking and talking boy themselves. What they saw was not what they were expecting.

Scalpel in hand, Trowa was taking calculating swipes of the blade at anyone who ventured too close to Quatre's bed. There was a wild look in his eyes, as if the boy was possessed, but Duo knew, he understood as he watched from behind the glass, that Trowa was wasn't insane, only grief-stricken.

The first place Duo had run after leaving Trowa had been the hanger. He'd found Wufei just coming out of docking.

"Duo what--"

"Trowa's awake! I just came from the infirmary to surprise you and I saw Trowa. He's a mess Wufei! He's hanging out next to Quatre, and he keeps saying that that he can't wake Quatre up! He's really, really, really upset, Fei!"

Wufei was totally surprised. As much as he'd tried to stay positive, the days that soon turned into two weeks, showed little to no signs of improvement for either patient, and in all honesty, he wasn't holding out much hope in their recovery.

Nodding his understanding to Duo, he issued orders as he raced back to his patients. "Go back into the hanger and tell Ralph and Abdule. Then go get Master Habsaba--he wanted to be informed the moment either boy awoke. Go Duo! Hurry!"

And Duo had. He'd run into the hanger and told an overjoyed Teacher his Recruit had awoken. But Abdule's face had been nearly heartbreaking. Quatre was not awake and he was going to have to tell that to Rashid.

Suddenly, in the here and now, there was a tug about his shoulder, and the next thing Duo knew, he was wrapped securely and warmly in Heero's arms.

"Are you alright?" There was a fierce protectiveness in Heero's voice, and Duo melted into the concern, he was extremely tired.

"Yeah. Have you seen, Heero? Look at him? If Rashid keeps moving like that, Trowa's going to really hurt him. I mean Trowa's already slashed into him like four times! He's just so scared for Quatre."

"Rashid will overcome his own fears."

Duo shook his head and looked into cobalt blue eyes. "No Heero, you don't understand. It's not Rashid who's scared for Quatre, it's Trowa. Trowa doesn't want anyone to touch Quatre, he thinks he's the only one that can wake Quatre up." A mask of confusion fell across Heero's face, and with his eyes he prompted Duo to continue. "When I found Trowa awake, he was so upset. He said he couldn't wake Quatre up. It's crazy, I know, but I really think Trowa's trying to protect Quatre. I don't know why, though. Besides that first day in the hallway, I don't think they've ever met, but you have to admit, the way they acted in the hallway, it was so strange, eerie really. It's like they know each other…but don't. Am I making any sense?"

Without answering, Heero pulled him in tighter, offering comfort as the assassin watched Trowa again slice into Rashid's arm in what he now saw as a form of defense. Shifting his gaze, he turned to see Rashid's face, and paused in mid caress of Duo's hair. Rashid's eyes were enraged, the gaze in them, that of a man kept from what was his, and Heero suddenly realized, it was the same look in Trowa's eyes.

With a swift turn, Heero grabbed Duo's wrist and pulled him through the crowd of bewildered Maguanacs. "Hurry, Duo! We have to stop Rashid!"

***

When Heero and Duo entered the room it was chaos. Ralph was desperately trying to calm Trowa down. "Trowa! Trowa, just listen to me, everything is going to be all right. No one's going to hurt you, I promise. Just, please, Trowa, put the knife down and let Rashid get to Quatre. Trowa, Rashid is Quatre's Teacher. Trowa!"

Wufei was carefully edging his way towards the medical supply closet, trying in vain to go unseen by Trowa's watchful eye.

Abdule was standing far out of the way, arms wrapped about himself as he watched Trowa do everything in his limited power to keep the giant away from Quatre.

But Rashid, enraged and blinded as such, barely acknowledged the slash marks across his torso and forearms as he tried again and again to find a way past Trowa's expert use of the scalpel.

Heero was just about to speak, to tell Rashid to move away--that there was some connection between Trowa and Quatre--but he didn't get the chance.

From behind him he felt the door swoosh open and with the quick tapping of a cane, turned to see both his Teacher, Trieze, and Master Habsaba enter. Their master was not silent long.

In a voice that commanded and spoke nothing of his withered age, Habsaba bellowed loudly to be heard over Rashid's cursing. "Rashid! Move away from Trowa now!" When Rashid failed to acknowledge him, Habsaba raised his voice. "Rashid!"

With obvious anger, Rashid turned to look behind him at his master, only to have Trowa retreat a step; pressing the edge of his back into the corner of Quatre's bed. There was a moment of pure silence, when the room held its breath to see if Rashid would listen. If he didn't, it wouldn't be the first time. But with a growl, Rashid took two half steps back, giving the illusion he was following orders. His voice belied the illusion. "Habsaba."

A whimper startled the room until they turned from Rashid's rage to Trowa's pain. Leaning against the foot of the bed, Trowa was carefully pulling back the blankets by Quatre's feet. The sight was grotesque at best. After years of Rubar walking, Quatre's feet were a disfigured mess. Blisters that had not fully healed, covered his feet, and deep gouges cut at all angles across the ball and heel. But Trowa's manner was gentle, soft and if Heero didn't know any better, loving, as the taller Recruit ran his fingertips over the appendages that everyone knew caused Quatre a great deal of pain. The sounds the boy made were agonizing, as the pads of his fingers skidded over blisters and permanently indented flesh. They ripped into Heero's often cold heart, and unknowingly, he clutched Duo closer to him.

But he was completely baffled, as were the other Maguanacs in the viewing room, by the events that played out next.

Habsaba's voice was soft, reverent and controlled. There was an air of wonder and great concern in the old man's voice as he spoke directly to Trowa.

"With whom am I speaking?"

Confused, the room turned to stare at their master. Treize moved closer and laid a hand upon Habsaba's shoulder, but the old man shook it off before taking a step closer.

"With whom am I speaking?"

There was a shuddering draw of breath before Trowa replaced the blanket and turned around, hate and rage, sorrow and fear, emanating from his too slender frame and chilling eyes.

"Trowa." Was the boy's reply.

Absently, Habsaba nodded his head. "Yes, but which one?"

A brief but startled look stole into Trowa's eyes before a cold mask of hatred fell completely upon his face. The sorrow was gone, the fear replaced by total and utter hatred for the withered man before him. Every muscle in Trowa's body tensed, and the whimpering boy of only moments before was replaced with hatred personified. When Trowa finally spoke, his voice shook from rage.

"You knew it was him."

And then suddenly, Master Habsaba, leader of the Maguanacs, fell to his knees, his head bent in shame. The room gasped at the sight, but Trowa didn't seem to hear it. He took a menacing step towards their fallen leader before balling his fists and swiftly turning away from the submissive figure.

Silence reigned until Habsaba spoke, tears in his voice.

"I have failed."

No one had time to process the statement before Trowa let lose all the rage he contained.

"Failed! FAILED! You've destroyed them both! Look! LOOK AT ME!!!"

In lost restrain, Trowa moved forward, grabbing Habsaba under the chin and yanking his face up and into view. There were tears in the leader's eyes. Suddenly, Trowa crouched down so that he was eye level with Master Habsaba. When he spoke again, his voice was as cold as space, and no one in the room dared move.

"What do you see? Tell me. Do you see a boy? A child? Do you see a broken child? Feel with those gifts granted to you by your God! What do you feel?! Do you feel his pain?! Do you feel his torture?! Can you sense the suffering, just under the surface?! What do you see when you look into these eyes?" The last line was spoken in a near nothing whisper but Habsaba heard it and his eyes could not make contact with the lengthy boy's before him.

Habsaba's voice was quiet when he answered. "Death."

And true to the word, Trowa's voice was dead when next he spoke.

"Yes, and you are the one that killed him."

Suddenly it was too much for Habsaba, in fear and sorrow he denied the claim.

"No! I never--"

With a shove that sent their leader completely to the ground, Trowa stood, his voice a near scream.

"You chose to ignore the signs! You chose to ignore the visions! Five years! Five years they suffered because of your fears! Five years this boy," and Trowa pointed to himself. "Suffered at hands he could not defend against! Five years he died a little every night so that you could sleep better! Did you, Habsaba? Did you sleep better knowing what you'd done?! Knowing a child suffered because of your fears!"

"Allah, no--"

"Your gifts were wasted! Your promises blasphemous! You spoke words of love to Allah, and then betrayed Him! Betrayed all of His people! You've destroyed the covenant, desecrated it! It stands for nothing--"

"NO! ALLAH NO!" On hands and knees, the leader of the Maguanacs knelt at the feet of a seventeen-year-old boy. "I am the one who has failed our God. The Maguanacs follow my word, which was given without their full knowledge of events. Allah, I beg You, do not punish the protectors of Your people, because of a cowardly old man!"

Disgust and contempt flashed across Trowa's face. With a near spin of revulsion, he turned back to look at Quatre. "Get up old man! Do not desecrate Allah's covenant more by kneeling at false idols. I am not your God, only His messenger in this alone--Allah is greatly displeased, Habsaba. He is greatly displeased." In an ominous way, Trowa's voice died out at the last line and again his hand strayed to touch Quatre's form beneath the blankets.

"I-I understand--"

"YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING!!!" Trowa turned, and again he showed unabashed hatred towards the fallen man. Again he pointed to his own chest. "This boy's pain has been unbearable, but Quatre's pain, his suffering… To feel the hatred of the universe, to know the agony and suffering he has been forced to know…" And in a pain filled and quiet whisper, "He breaks…so easily. He feels more than Allah ever wished him too." Trowa paused, and in that time, a single tear fell from the tip of his chin before he continued.

"Five years ago, you were told of his coming, and you ignored it. Took in two others that did not fit the covenant. Two children that had to died to open the promise! You let that happen, you killed them to protect your own interests! And Quatre, and this poor child," and again he pointed to his chest. "Were forced back into that place!" With wild gestures, Trowa pointed outward, encompassing with his words the world outside the Maguanacs satellite. "What say you, Habsaba? What defense do you bring? You chose those three! You chose them, and denied them!" Trowa swept his hand to include Wufei, Heero and Duo in the first sweep, and himself and Quatre in the next. "Give to me your defense to this crime!"

And in the silence, were simply an old man and his sobs.

This time, Trowa knelt down again, not bothering to lift Habsaba's eyes to view.

"He will not awaken, and I cannot awaken him. The time has come and gone and he sleeps. Do you know what will happen if he does not wake up? Do you know the consequences of your actions against him?" Trowa paused, not waiting for an answer, only letting the ramifications of his words sink in. "You told the Teacher, Rashid, that Quatre was special, delicate, but you failed to tell him why! Tell him now, Habsaba! Tell him, how you saw Quatre, then only ten short years, and quaked in your throne of gold and rubies! Tell your once Recruit that you closed your ears to words that obligated you to take the boy! Tell your general how you closed your eyes to the pain and suffering written on Quatre's face! Tell your people how you turned him away!"

More sobs, more heart wrenching sobs that forced the room to stare but feel no sorrow or need to defend their leader. The boy spoke.

"Or what of this one?" Again Trowa indicated himself in third person. "Broken and half-starved even then. Cold and sick, suffering and needing; but you turned him away, just like Quatre. You turned him away and fled from the room, knowing that in your fear, you had defied Allah. He will punish you, Habsaba. Allah forgives all things except betrayal. Quatre should have been rescued, trained, comforted--five years ago! Instead he suffered in ways you will never know about--in ways his Teacher will be lucky to discover! And you've condemned this boy as well." Trowa pointed to himself yet again. "He is afraid, terrified of contact, and in a world where Quatre should have been stronger, he will now be forced to carry the burden! You have rearranged fate, destroyed planning, and these two children will suffer--have suffered--for it! This boy--Trowa-- may not be strong enough! He may not have the strength to carry this burden, and if he falls, if he cannot, you already know what will happen."

With a jerk Trowa stood, moving again to stand next to Quatre's bed, this time at the side, so that with one fluid movement he had his hand resting against Quatre's heart. There was a painful and far away look in his eyes, and while Habsaba continued to weep upon the floor, Trowa began to speak again, this time, not taking his eyes from his hand upon Quatre's chest.

"Rashid, as his Teacher you agreed to care for him, love him, but Quatre is different, special in ways you cannot even yet imagine. He is The Promise, The Way. But he is damaged, and Trowa…this boy--cannot help him alone. You and your first Recruit must bear the burden of Quatre's sanity, and crimes committed upon him by your Master and others." Another pause and then a brief half smile fell across Trowa's face. "My Quatre always was a soft soul. He'll feel your discontent, be careful how you feel around him, for Quatre would now rather die than cause you pain. He's not strong enough to yet deal with what is to come. Shelter him, but do not deny him. He must know all that there is, Quatre and Quatre alone must come to understand his place here. Influence, but do not command him, his soul is too cracked to handle it.

"Ralph." And this time Trowa did look up, his eyes holding infinite amounts of respect and something unknown. "Trowa will be the same. They are both like glass that has already begun to splinter. Use your love, your compassion, your faith to mend him, or truly all will be lost. Give Trowa time, but press him, he must be ready before Quatre. He must be prepared for the tests to come or Quatre surely will falter." Another tear escaped from Trowa's eye and he bowed his head in agony at his own words.

"Habsaba, you have done this, and while I ache to drive my blade through your heart, you are needed. Take the role you were supposed to claim five years ago and train Quatre. He is older now, perhaps too old to understand Allah's gifts to him. Teach him to be strong, and perhaps, when your judgement comes, I will demand the abyss rather than Hell." Trowa turned his hate filled eyes onto Habsaba, but the man only nodded, resigned to his fate.

And then Trowa's demeanor changed completely. From the rage before was a softer boy, one that wore a smile of remembrance and caring. His eyes were directed towards Heero, Duo and Wufei. "Had we not been separated by these five years, you would already understand what is to come. But time and circumstance have separated us. In time you three will also remember, but until then, I urge you to try to befriend these two. They will be withdrawn, scared, and distant, with any number of other emotions throw in--do not be swayed. Had they been chosen at the same time as you three, a bond would have been formed immediately, now it will have to be forced in some ways." Trowa's voice softly died out in sadness. Heero moved to fill the void.

"Tell me who you are. Who you really are."

A sad smile fell upon Trowa's face then, and the Maguanacs watched as he turned slowly to regard Heero. "It pains me that you do not remember. It's to be expected, but hurts none the less. I am…who I am. Have faith Heero, I do."

Shaken up by Trowa's words--the words of a stranger that seemed to know him and not know him, Heero shifted his eyes in time to see Howard against the glass of the viewing room, his consummate sunglasses removed, his eyes wide in something like recognition and fear. 

Heero didn't notice until he heard Duo's hair tie hit the metal caging around Quatre's bed that his lover had moved away from him. He saw Wufei move to call Duo away, when fate or Allah struck another blow.

Duo's voice was awed and a little fearful as he spoke, his voice directed towards Trowa.

"I-I don't know why, but I understand what you're talking about. This is…man this is fucked up, but I…I think I can help you. I don't have a clue as to why, but I think I can help you--wake Quatre up that is." Duo looked confused, startled by his own words, but Trowa only nodded, an easier and more hopeful smile gracing his beautiful face.

"You were his best friend, if anyone beside myself could, it would be you."

But Duo only shook his head. "I just met him two weeks ago, and he was totally freaked out by me! We're not friends, I don't even think he likes me!"

Trowa shook his head. "Quatre will come to understand you. Besides, you made a promise to Allah that you must keep."

Suddenly Duo's face went completely white and his head jerked up to stare with surprised horror at Trowa's face. "H-How did you know that?"

Trowa only smiled. "Because you've made that very same promise before."

Shaking his head Duo protested. "But I've never--"

"Duo." Trowa paused long enough to gain the longhaired boy's full attention. "It is unimportant how I know or why, only that you keep the promise you made. I speak the truth when I tell you that Quatre's life depends on it."

For a long moment in time, Duo stared at Trowa, looking into his eyes and his soul for answers. Finally, he spoke again. "You're not going to remember this, are you? Trowa, our Trowa, won't remember anything that's happened here, will he?"

With a pain filled cast of his eyes Trowa slowly shook his head. "Not all of it, not even most of it, but the emotions, the understanding will be like a forgotten dream to him. He'll remember in moments of fear or happiness, anger or rage. But it will come back to him eventually, it has to, we're not different, only separated."

Shaking his head in utter confusion, Duo sighed. "Ok, listen, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but I have this really strange need to put my hand over yours on Blondie's chest. I've got a feeling something's 'sposed to happen after that." Trowa nodded. "Ok, well lets do this so I can go back to Heero and Wufei and demand three whole nights of comfort sex for the creeps this is giving me."

With a smile Trowa nodded, and in the next moment, Duo's hand was resting atop his. There was no flash of light; no bells or angel's choirs. Instead, there was a soft sigh on Trowa's part, a light smile which drifted across his chiseled face, and then movement as Trowa leaned down, and ever so softly--with every bit of reverence a human could possess--kissed Quatre softly before crumpling to the ground, motionless.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
  
For a moment, the room stood in complete silence; then all hell broke loose.  
  
"TROWA!" In a mad rush, Ralph pushed his way across the room to reach his fallen Recruit. If the events of the last few minutes had any effect on him, Ralph showed no signs, the only thing important to him was making sure Trowa was all right.  
  
Still standing by the bed, his hand still over Quatre's heart, Duo looked completely shaken. With a violent lurch, he pulled away from the sick boy and drew his hand in towards his body for protection. "I DIDN'T DO IT!!!" Heero and Wufei had him almost immediately, and as the two tried desperately to find out if their lover was all right, Rashid turned and finally faced his fallen master.  
  
The sounds of Ralph calling to his Recruit, the realization that Quatre had still not awoken, the fact that Duo was somehow connected to this--as were the other two boys--and the dawning understanding that his master had displeased Allah Himself, shook Rashid to the core. With calculated steps, he moved to his still sobbing master's side. He neither knelt nor offered comfort. No one did. Something in the way Trowa had spoken, the conviction in his voice, the power of his presence, or miracle that the boy had just spoken a message from their God, had given them all pause, and they watched without emotion or care.  
  
The crying continued for what seemed like hours to Rashid. At some point Howard had entered, going instantly to Duo and stealing him away from his lovers to offer the kind of comfort only a Teacher could. The other two, now relieved of their burden, moved to their own Teachers, seeking comfort from what they had just seen and heard. A sudden pain filled his chest and only worsened as he turned to look behind him, to see Abdule resting on the floor, his legs curled up, his eyes staring into the space just past Rashid's head.  
  
Suddenly, the pain he'd put his first Recruit through as he'd agonized over Quatre's condition flooded him with guilt and shame. He'd carelessly believed that Abdule could handle himself, and while the younger man surely could in most matters, this was something too close to home.  
  
Every step towards his Recruit filled him with more pain as he finally knelt down to pull Abdule into his embrace. As he held him, Abdule whispered something into his chest, and he had to ask Abdule to repeat the words.  
  
"What did Habsaba do to him?" No "master" when Abdule had been admit since arriving over ten years ago when talking about the leader of the Maguanacs--that omission spoke volumes.  
  
"I do not know yet, but I will find out." With a loving caress, he helped his lover and partner in life to his feet, wrapping his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Then turning, he walked back towards the calming leader, barely noting the still staring soldiers in the viewing room.  
  
But Rashid didn't have time to pose the questions and demands he wanted--no--needed to; Ralph's worried and commanding voice intercepting him.  
  
"Rashid, worry about that later. Worry about all of it later! Right now we have to focus on the children. Trowa's passed out and Quatre still hasn't woken up, we need to have Wufei check them over first, before we do anything else."  
  
Every fiber of Rashid's body rebelled against the delay. Something otherworldly had happened in this room, something that involved his Quatre and four other boys as well. Then there was Habsaba's betrayal that demanded attention. In the end, it was Abdule's reassuring hand against his shoulder that prompted him to prioritize.  
  
With a growl of unreleased rage, Rashid moved quickly across the room to offer Ralph assistance in moving Trowa back to the bed. He watched Abdule move silently to Quatre's side, his slim fingers barely touching Quatre's cheek in worry and reverence. Once Trowa was tucked securely into the bed, Ralph too moved to touch the tall boy, offering comfort even as the child slept.  
  
There was a slight rustle of fabric beside him, and he turned to see Wufei slipping on a lab coat before moving to draw a blood sample from Trowa's still form. The Chinese youth was shaken, his place in this odd development rattling him just as much as seeing his lover take such an active role in it.  
  
As general to the Maguanacs, Rashid stood only below Habsaba in the ranks. The men looked to him for leadership, but mostly as an unlikely source of care and compassion.  
  
With a familiarity borne only from the comradely of their circumstances, Rashid softly ran his hand over Wufei's hair before coming to rest on the boy's shoulder. The response was immediate as Wufei clasped the hand on his shoulder briefly, offered a faint smile before returning to his work.  
  
Rashid nodded, turning back towards Quatre's bed and the viewing room. He offered his men a tight nod before moving the four feet that separated Trowa's bed from Quatre's, to envelope his lover tightly as they watched Quatre's unchanged form.  
  
The silence lasted for a very long time, the movements of Wufei back and forth across the room, the only sounds. Habsaba had long since stood, moving to a chair in an out of the way corner. It was Wufei's surprised curse and exclamation of impossibility that drew them all away from their confusion and grief.  
  
Treize was the first to respond, Zechs standing very close to him. "What is it, Wufei?"  
  
But the young doctor didn't answer, instead moved back to Trowa's bed and drew another blood sample from the silent boy. Without a word to Ralph or anyone else, Wufei quickly moved back to the other side of the room and began once again to work with the new sample. Again the room fell silent as he worked. That is until he swore yet again and stormed across the room only to pierce Trowa's other arm and draw again.  
  
This time Ralph couldn't hold back his worry. "Wufei, what is it, what's going on?"  
  
But again Wufei said nothing, instead moving back to his miniature lab. Five minutes later, when the doctor turned, it was to move to Quatre's bedside. With precision, he extracted a vial of the small blonde's blood before returning to run another test. The room was silently holding its breath when he finally turned around, face white with a mixture of fear and awe.  
  
It was Ralph again that called for an answer. "Damnit Wufei, what's going on?!"  
  
It seemed to take Wufei a long time to collect himself, and even longer to begin to form a sentence that made sense. "I…ran a test to determine Trowa's T-cell count, hoping he hadn't been injured from his display." The doctor paused again, eyes wide with disbelief. "But his T- Cells have--I can't believe this--they've multiplied to half of standard." Again Wufei stopped, his gaze shifting between Quatre and Trowa, again and again. "It's just not possible."  
  
"But," Ralph questioned. "Isn't that good? That means the REHIV drug is working and Trowa's gaining back more T-Cells than the AIDS virus is killing off, right? He's beating the virus. Isn't that supposed to be good?"  
  
Absently, Wufei nodded his head before suddenly changing his mind and shaking it violently no. "You don't understand. What's happened, it's impossible. The REHIV treatment--in a case as sever as Trowa's--takes months to complete, not weeks! This kind of improvement isn't even plausible! Trowa's T-Cells aren't scheduled to reach this peak for another three months! There's no way this could happen, the body simply can't regenerate that quickly! But-but I've run three separate tests and they're all positive! My God, technically he doesn't even have AIDS anymore, he's back to the downgraded HIV--"  
  
"That's great news! Wufei, it doesn't matter how it happened, but Trowa's getting better and that's all that matters! It's a miracle! I don't care how it happened, just that Trowa's getting better!" Ralph smiled, beaming as he turned to softly caress Trowa's pale face.  
  
They didn't notice Wufei's shaking head until he spoke, his words pained and distant. "But the price was far too high."  
  
This time, Ralph stopped dead, fear stealing over him and everyone in the room. "What do you mean, Wufei? What price?"  
  
Again, Wufei shook his head, and again he simply looked from Trowa to Quatre and back again. "Heero once told me that the universe must remain in constant balance. That for every good thing there must also be a bad. My own family taught me this, but it has always been like an abstract to me. Now, suddenly it's more real than I ever imagined." His voice died out then, and it was beyond strange to see Wufei in such a state.  
  
The glances at Quatre finally pushed Rashid over. "What do you mean exactly, Wufei? What has gone wrong?"  
  
When Wufei lifted his black eyes to meet Rashid's, the general knew it wouldn't bode well for Quatre. "I ran a test on Trowa, the test came back with half of his T-Cells regenerated from the same test I ran last night, which is impossible. But…I ran the same test on Quatre--I'm not sure just why I did it--but it came back positive. There's no way Quatre's T-Cells could have dropped that much in just two weeks--"  
  
"What exactly are you saying, Wufei?" Rashid's voice was tired and strained, every muscle in his body taunt with worry and he could feel Abdule shaking in his arms.  
  
"I'm saying that Quatre has somehow contracted the HIV virus, and worse than that, it's a full blown case of it. But just like their heartbeats it's as if they're enter twinned; because while Trowa's T-Cells are up by a standard half, Quatre's are down by the same percentage. It's as if they split the difference. There's no way Quatre could have had the virus and had it worsen this much since his arrival, there's no scientific way! It's impossible!"  
  
"Not for Allah." The truth was spoken in a voice as nearly dead as its owner. Habsaba sat slumped in the chair, his eyes staring, unseeing, at his hands as they twisted about themselves.  
  
"What exactly do you mean, 'not for Allah'?" This from Zechs, the one among them who had the hardest time assimilating Islam.  
  
But Master Habsaba only shook his head. "They are linked. Mind, body, soul, it's all the same. Trowa wasn't exaggerating, he cannot do it without Quatre and neither Quatre without him. Trowa was injured, the symptoms better split between them than carried by one. That was their downfall before, but not this time."  
  
In a question that seemed to have more meaning in this brief laps in time, Trieze spoke. "What do you mean? Are you saying that Allah had some part in Trowa and Quatre's health?"  
  
Rashid moved to take a step towards Habsaba, but was held back by Abdule. Habsaba answered the question. "Is that so unlikely? You--we all- -believe that Allah decides when our time is finished. Is it so strange to believe that He could decide instead to keep them here?"  
  
And then it was too much. In a violent pull Rashid tore himself from Abdule's grip and stalked to tower over his leader. "What is going on, Habsaba?! Trowa, a quiet and ill boy, suddenly acts like an entirely different person, while shouting at you for disobeying Allah's will. He accuses you of orchestrating the deaths of two of our own, and then speaks of some profound connection between himself and Quatre. Next he pulls in the three remaining recruits from the last rounds and directs them to befriend himself and Quatre. But Trowa speaks as if in third person, an entity inhabiting his body rather than the Trowa we know. Then Duo begins to act strangely, and now Wufei discovers a medical impossibility and you claim responsibility belongs to Allah! No more lies or delay's Habsaba, tell your people what is happening!"  
  
There was a long pause as Rashid stared down his former Teacher. A long pause that accompanied no sound save for the constant beatings of two twin hearts.  
  
Habsaba seemed tired as he answered. "I cannot tell you, Rashid. Allah's will must be realized with time."  
  
"That answer is unaccepta--"  
  
"NOOOOOOOO!!!" In a rush of flailing arms, and a prolonged scream of fear, rage, and torment, Trowa ended Rashid's demands. Fighting the sheets that surrounded him, Trowa sat up, breathing heavily as he struggled to take in the oxygen his body craved more than the drugs he'd willingly given it. His eyes were wild and unseeing for a moment as he struggled with the last remnants of his vanishing nightmare.  
  
Someone…blood, so much blood! Fear…heartbreak… he wouldn't leave…not like this! Suffering as he'd never known, mind deadening, as he quickly shut off all his emotions to keep from sinking under them. Someone was dead, and it was his fault.  
  
"Trowa!" He felt the hand before it touched him, flinched away before it truly made any contact. With a jerk he glared at the man who tried to touch him, but as he did, the world shifted, swirling and dipping so that he had to close his eyes and fight the nausea that threatened to relieve his stomach of what was already not there.  
  
Gentle hands again reached for him, and again he pulled away, only to completely lose his balance so that he had to un-shield his body to catch his descent.  
  
The memories flooded him instantly of a time not long ago. "Never show weakness! You want to be beaten worse than the you already have been, just try to cry, they'll eat you alive!"  
  
This time when the touch came, he hadn't sensed it fighting the nausea. His voice was silent--his eyes, the window to his soul expressing all the danger that he was even if he was ill. Tall and skinny, sick with one illness after another, Trowa looked like an easy target, but against one he was fast and nimble, easily incapacitating his target. He was like that with up to five, even if he wasn't feeling well. Ten was a harder number, twenty arms and legs, ten men waiting their turn with his broken body that was more than he could handle. Better to just wait it out and assess injuries afterwards.  
  
But Trowa paused as his night terror receded and the image of his self proclaimed Teacher, stood before him, absolute worry clearly written across his face. Worry and concern, both new emotions for him. Against his will, he felt the muscles along his body loosen, his wariness not lessening, only the automatic response to flee or fight reduced to bearable levels. That is until he realized they weren't alone.  
  
Ten men, ten other men besides himself and his Teacher. A sick boy asleep on a bed--no worry--but ten viable men, young to old, short to gigantic, it was too much.  
  
He didn't even hear Ralph call his name has he threw his legs over the side of the bed and made to bolt. In an embarrassment that he figured would cost him weeks of self-repair, his legs collapsed under him.  
  
"Trowa! By Allah, are you alright?" He barley heard the words, nothing in his past letting him understand the concern. On the floor he remained perfectly still, his body loose, knowing the punishment for attempting to escape and failing. Silently he cursed himself, feeling the weakness in his muscles, the aching feeling throughout his body. He was in terrible shape, and mentally went over the more intimate places of his body, searching for signs of pain he couldn't remember.  
  
This time, when he felt the gentle hands, he didn't dare flinch away. "Oh, Trowa. It's all right, you're all right. No one's going to hurt you, I promise. It's Ralph, do you remember? I know you're not feeling well right now, you're weak, but that's understandable. Trowa you've been so ill, in a coma for over two weeks now. Try not to move too much, I'll help you back into bed."  
  
A coma?! Two weeks?! That couldn't be right! He remembered being sick, feeling like the world was going to cave in around him. He remembered hiding in a corner of the tent he shared with Ralph, hiding his weakness from the other much stronger man. Nothing else…but gentle hands, soft and warm as they soothed his burning skin? Kind words spoken softly so they didn't frighten him? He remembered the smell of something spicy, a cologne that tickled his senses and made him feel calmer than he could ever remember feeling. Safe, safe with the person that touched him, safe with Ralph.  
  
Startled, he looked up past his wayward bangs and into the eyes of his Teacher, his concerned and worried Teacher. Trowa didn't understand it, had nothing to compare it to if truth be told, but in that moment, when his eyes met those of his Teacher's, he felt something connect in him. It was like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and with a nod of his head in surrender and hope, Trowa agreed to Ralph's offer of help. Trowa didn't dare analyze the feeling of trust, he didn't dare.  
  
With a strength Trowa didn't know he possessed, Ralph lifted him easily, and carefully deposited him onto the bed. Then, as if understanding they were not alone and how that must have upset him, stood sentry next to the bed, offering protection. Trowa couldn't help the wide eyes that rested on his Teacher, and though it went against everything he knew, he desperately wanted to trust this man, felt it like an ache in the soul he barely remembered having.  
  
But his position in the room was weak, and Trowa struggled against the dizziness to sit up, not trusting anyone else in the room, especially the giant towering over the elderly man. Vaguely he remembered that the old man was the leader of the Maguanacs and that the giant was the general, but these types of titles had existed in his own ranks in the mercenary camps, and he'd hated those two most of all.  
  
He shifted, using his arms to brace himself. But his movement caused him to see the small form in the other bed and it was to that figure that his eyes locked, stunned and riveted as parts of his dream replayed themselves.  
  
A boy with blond hair--no--a young man, somewhere in his early twenties atop a black horse--no, grayish white, white was too pure for a soul like his, isn't that what he'd once said? A hand, soft and warm inside his own, hope and promise as lips secretly met in a stolen chance. Frightened and passionate, distant when surrounded, overwhelmed when alone, they were inseparable, and adoring. And then there was blood.  
  
With a violent shake he wrenched himself from his…what? Dream? Memory? Trowa had no way of knowing, but with an insistent call of his name, he looked up to see that every eye in the room was upon him. He turned to regard his Teacher.  
  
"I've been calling your name for five minutes, Trowa. You've been just staring at Quatre." Ah, the angel had a name, Trowa thought before quickly shaking that idea away. Where had that come from? The boy in the other bed was just a slip, a boy/child and nothing more. Trowa knew he was gay, there was no getting around it, but he detested the very act of sex, and as he stole a glance at the sleeping boy, he knew that child could never protect him.  
  
Absently he stammered a response. "I didn't hear you."  
  
"Trowa," and this time it was the giant, Rashid. "Do you recognize, Quatre?"  
  
With trepidation he stole a glance back at the boy and then at Ralph, before answering briefly. "We met in the hallway and again in the hanger. I don't recognize him." Liar! His mind taunted, you know him. But he didn't, and if he did, he doubted he cared. The boy was beautiful, as many boys were, most grew into bastards and worse. Ralph was strong, larger than all except the giant, Trowa would stay with his Teacher.  
  
The boy--Quatre--was of no concern to him.  
  
"Trowa--"  
  
"Rashid, just stop. Trowa's tired, even you can see that. Just let them rest, let's just all rest." His Teacher seemed upset, they all did, and that never boded well for Trowa. Ralph turned to address him. "Trowa, I know this must all seem crazy to you. Wufei said you might not even recognize how much time's passed. As much as I want to talk to you and make sure you're alright, I think it's probably better if you just try to get some sleep." Trowa prided himself on his poker face, but Ralph seemed able to easily see the turmoil beyond the mask. "Don't worry about anything, I'll be staying with you the entire night. Actually, I've been sleeping on a cot that gets moved out in the morning; I didn't want you to wake up alone." And there it was again, compassion and worry. Though he fought against it, though he struggled to remain above it, Trowa melted into the thought that Ralph had protected him during the nights--the most dangerous times.  
  
With a nod of his head and a quick glance back at the crowd of people, Trowa closed his eyes and willed his body to sleep. And just like a true soldier, fell asleep immediately. 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
  
Trowa's internal clock told him it was morning even though the room only had standard issue Class A White bulbs. He didn't dare open his eyes. Years of training had taught him to awaken without the movement of a single muscle; all the better when springing an attack. But this was different, it was late in the morning, as if he'd slept for a long time, and he could hear talking, whispers of two different men about five feet from him; he recognized one as his Teacher.  
  
They were speaking quietly, but he'd been trained to hear the slightest rustle of fabric in a field, to him it was as if they were speaking in normal tones.  
  
The first line he heard alerted him to who the other speaker was, as Ralph addressed him. "Rashid, we have no idea what's really going on. Master Habsaba's locked himself into the ka'aba and it doesn't seem as if he's coming out anytime soon."  
  
There was a growl, like that of a bear before the giant answered. "If he thinks the ka'aba will protect him he is more a fool that I thought. This is larger than we are, Ralph. If what Trowa said yesterday was true, then Allah delivered a message to us and we cannot ignore it."  
  
What had he said yesterday? He'd only said a handful of sentences. He hated to talk, better to remain silent and disappear than come out of hiding for some frivols comment. But Ralph was speaking again and he wanted to hear more.  
  
"Rad, we have to believe that Master Habsaba had a reason for what he did, or at least thought he did. And besides, Wufei now thinks Trowa acted and said what he did because of the drugs he gave him to combat the viruses in his system. I mean, my God, Rad, the poor boy's on twenty-two different medications, and you heard Wufei calling down to supplies requesting five others he didn't have in stock! There's no telling the kind of chemical reactions that could have caused in someone already as sick as Trowa. Let's not jump to any conclusions. Wufei's running tests on Trowa's blood from right after the…incident and the sample he got while Trowa was sleeping, I'm sure it was some kind of reaction."  
  
He was on how much medication?! He'd known he was sick, he'd been sick for a long time, battling one illness after another, not daring to give into the aches and pains, the silent symptoms. But this medication had made him do something, something that was worrying Ralph and the general.  
  
"If it allows you to function better, Ralph, then believe what you want. I however, do not believe what happened yesterday was some sort of chemical reaction. The boy was precise, I bear the wounds to prove that. I knew what he was doing, and I believe his words to Habsaba did not come from him alone." There was a great sense of dread and wonder in the giant's voice, and Trowa couldn't help but wonder what had really happened.  
  
"Rashid, I don't care. I don't care what happened. I don't even really care about Quatre if truth be told. I know he's your Recruit, but my main reason for existence right now is to protect Trowa. I love Quatre like I do all my brothers, but Trowa is different, special to me in a way Quatre never will be. I have to do what I think is best for Trowa, just as you have to for Abdule and Quatre. I'm not going to fail him, Rashid, I won't!"  
  
"I understand that, Ralph, more than you know. But Trowa is awake, and he made comments about Quatre and therefore it is important to me to find out what Trowa knows. I have my own opinions about what is happening, and though they differ from yours we are both after the same thing--the truth. My plan is not to harass your Recruit, Trowa is just as delicate as Quatre; but I have to understand what is happening, and I have to determine if Trowa knows why Quatre has not yet awoken."  
  
They both cared about him. That was the first thought that surfaced in his mind. Neither one wanted anything bad to happen to him, but both had reasons for doing what needed to be done. He felt a sense of dread concerning Rashid, but somehow knew Ralph wouldn't let the giant get carried away. This new emotion of trust wasn't something he was yet willing to analyze.  
  
"Rad, you have to remember, since Quatre now has the HIV virus, his body could just be expending all its energy trying to combat it. He may just be repairing himself"  
  
HIV, AIDS. Trowa knew them both intimately. He remembered well the ornate throwing knife he'd traded to the doctor that performed the test which positively told him he had less than ten years to live. Treatments were unheard of in the ranks but he'd done everything he could to procure the anti-virus REHIV. He'd traded many things for the drug, most of which he didn't want to remember now that he felt safe. The virus had decimated his body, eventually wracking him with one illness after another until the pain had overwhelmed him and he'd turned to a way out.  
  
Drugs hadn't been hard to find in the ranks. He could trade his rations for a three-hour escape from both the pain and the mental misery of his existence without much hassle. He'd moved steadily through the lower addictions, moving upward towards the things he knew killed his body faster than the virus causing him the pain. But none of it mattered, not when he couldn't feel the cold or the press of the body that forced it's way inside his. And the images. Some were horrible, bloody fields of men and women, children of all ethnic backgrounds; the smell that falls three days after the massacre. Those had been horrible, worse than the pain, enveloping his body in one torturous scene after another.  
  
But he'd done it willingly for the boy. Trowa never saw his face, but in his dreams he knew he loved the smaller boy. As Trowa had grown up, so too had the boy, until they were both young men, primed and willing to begin something neither had ever experienced.  
  
He'd taken L-17-Joy, the newest and fastest moving drug on Earth. The team had long since drifted off in a drunken stupor, and for the first time in months a victory had not resulted in ten men holding him down to take their turns. He'd been dreaming about the boy for years then, but that night, everything changed.  
  
Trowa remembered the stillness before the young man arrived. The air had hung in a thick fog, and while he'd known the boy was coming, he felt a strange sense of changing around him. When the smaller boy had stepped through the mist, Trowa had understood why--the boy was naked.  
  
They hadn't talked, there was no need for words--both knew each other from countless nights of nothing but long talks. They'd gone to each other without reservation or timidness, both embracing and kissing. Trowa had longed for a gentle touch, and with one wayward high, he'd been given it all. The other had been gentle, loving, and had offered Trowa more pleasure and desire than he'd ever felt in his seemingly endless life. It was the first time in his memory he remembered enjoying sex--but no, he couldn't call it that, and hadn't, instead naming it what it had been, love making.  
  
But the best hadn't been the act itself, though he'd enjoyed that more than he'd ever admit in his waking hours, no the best had been after, curled against a form that offered comfort and warmth, and promised to protect him the rest of the night.  
  
That dream had happened over two years ago, and hadn't repeated since. He'd tried again and again to find that memory before the drugs overwhelmed him, but for nothing, the dream never returned. But the boy had, invading his fogged mind to offer comfort whenever it became too much for him to bear; and often, when he was held down and desecrated, he imagined the boy was there, soothing him with his presence alone.  
  
But now this sick boy had HIV as well, and Trowa felt a sudden kinship with him that he couldn't understand. From what he'd seen, the blond couldn't have been more than thirteen, waffish, and terrified. Well, at least they had some things in common.  
  
Trowa was completely caught off guard by what the general said next. "It is too much of a coincidence, Ralph! Trowa's rapid rise in health, and now Quatre with a virus he didn't have upon entering the ranks, it is not possible, just as Wufei has said. If Trowa has somehow given Quatre the virus--"  
  
NO! With a quick shift of his body, Trowa sat up, death and hatred in his eyes as he stared down the man on the far side of Quatre's bed. Trowa would never hurt, Quatre, never! The idea was so foreign to him it stung like a slap to his face and his pride. The implications of what he'd done, along with how he was feeling didn't touch him, nothing did. This man thought he'd hurt Quatre, and that was simply unacceptable.  
  
Trowa's voice was quiet and hard when he spoke. "I didn't do anything to him."  
  
"No, Trowa, Rashid didn't mean it that way!" Ralph was suddenly on his feet, and with two quick strides was standing next to Trowa's bed. Trowa didn't even notice when he didn't flinch away. "Trowa, Rashid's just worried, that's all. I've told you before that Rashid is Quatre's Teacher, and he cares about Quatre just as much as I do about you. He's just worried because Wufei didn't catch the fact that Quatre had the virus when he came aboard, that's all. It has nothing to do with you. It's OK, Trowa, really."  
  
But Trowa wasn't convinced, and as he looked into the giant's eyes, he knew Rashid wasn't convinced either. He tried again. "I don't even know him. How could I have given him the virus?"  
  
"No, Trowa, don't worry--"  
  
"I do not know." Rashid cut in, effectively blocking what Ralph was trying to say. "It is true that Wufei did not find the HIV virus in Quatre's blood when he first arrived, and it is possible that it was simply a mistake, but it is a great coincidence that the percentages between your and Quatre's T-Cell counts are directly opposite."  
  
Trowa wasn't buying it. "I repeat, how could I have given him the virus?"  
  
For a moment the general looked ready to argue, but suddenly the fight seemed to drain out of him and he pulled back, slumping back into his chair. "I do not know, Trowa. I do not know." There was a finality to his tone, and Trowa sense that the giant had no basis with which to argue any further. With nothing more than a nod and a quick glance at the sick boy, Trowa turned his attention back to his now flustered Teacher.  
  
Sudden realization of what he'd just done overwhelmed him, and in a rush, he pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the first thing he could think of. He didn't dare analyze further why and what he'd just said and done, giving away his cover like that…  
  
He was hungry, that was one of the first things he'd recognized about his bodily state upon waking up. But he didn't dare ask for food, that was one thing that had proven time and time again to be the commodity with the largest price attached to it. But with a loud rumbling sound, it seemed he didn't have to say anything.  
  
"Oh, I'm such an idiot! Trowa you must be starving, well, I can tell that you are. I should have thought of that. Is there anything in particular you want to eat? I told Wufei that you were going to eat a decent meal when you woke up, no more of those shakes, at least not by themselves. You have to keep drinking them, but something with a little substance might actually make you feel better. How about some soup? Does soup sound alright?"  
  
He felt warm inside, like someone had filled up his body with something it had been missing for so long. Ralph was good to him, and Trowa was beginning to realize that the kindnesses didn't come with a price. Sure Ralph tried to touch him too much, and got too close to him, and always wanted to talk when there was nothing to say, but Trowa had been finding in his remembered days of consciousness, that he'd enjoyed Ralph's company and did not feel threatened by it.  
  
"Soup would be fine."  
  
"Great! Let me just run down to the camp and bring you back som--what's wrong?!"  
  
The shiver had stolen over him involuntarily, and against all his wishes, he now knew his face displayed his fear about being left alone with the giant. A sick boy he could handle, but he was himself sick now, the room still whirling when he moved his head from side to side; there was no way he could protect himself against Rashid.  
  
And then suddenly, both Ralph and Rashid seemed to understand. With fluid movements that didn't seem possible from one so big, Rashid stood and moved towards the door. "I have myself, not had anything to eat. If Trowa agrees to keep an eye on Quatre, then I will accompany Ralph to the mess tent."  
  
Keep an eye on Quatre? The boy hadn't moved in who knew how long. How hard could that task be? With a nod of his head that again sent the world tipping on its axis, he gave his word. He felt Ralph touch his shoulder, and started but did not pull away.  
  
"I'll be right back Trowa, twenty minutes at the most. Just try to relax. Don't worry if you fall asleep, I'll have things kept warm for you until you wake back up. I'll also tell Wufei not to bother you until I come back. Just rest, I'll be back soon." With a parting smile, Ralph moved to stand with Rashid, and Trowa noticed that his Teacher wasn't that much smaller than the general, before both left the room and silence fell.  
  
It took him only a few seconds to determine what he was going to do with those twenty minutes. With a shove that should have been effortless, he swung his legs over the bed and carefully slid off the side. This time he was prepared for it when his legs buckled and he tumbled to the ground.  
  
For a long moment he sat there, staring at the bottom half of the bed across from his. His body ached, and though it hurt, it didn't hurt as much as it had in the past. He couldn't sense the dramatic shift, but he didn't miss the tale tell signs of some narcotic in his blood stream. Ralph had told him that drugs were not to be used on the satellite, but had assured him that many before him had come in with addictions, and he would not be expected to simply stop without care, that would be cruel. He'd been given injections of one of the lesser drugs called Ola-Co, a drug often used to fight addictions. It would be a long process, the slow weaning of years of drugs from his body taking many months to complete, but Trowa had used the drugs to escape the pain and suffering, and there was little of that here; he didn't expect it to be too hard. But there was Ola- Co in his body now, he could feel it dulling the pain around the edges. He assumed the detox drug had been given to him even while he'd been in the coma.  
  
The coma, that though alone kept him on the floor for many minutes as he contemplated what it meant. He'd lost time, time he'd never gain back, time where he'd been vulnerable. But no one had hurt him, at least in such a way that he could tell, and he'd gotten very aquatinted with the inner- workings of his body over the seventeen long years of his life. He wasn't sure what had happened yesterday, though he understood he'd said or done something, most likely under the haze of a drug miscalculation. He still didn't understand exactly what was happening on this satellite, but he wasn't expressly afraid, and that spoke a lot to a boy who was an impeccable judge of character.  
  
But the floor was starting to get cold, and he knew if he didn't get up soon his muscles would become far too stiff to support his weight. He understood now that he wasn't in any shape to fight or defend himself, and that thought settled poorly on him when he remembered he'd given his word to Rashid to watch out for Quatre.  
  
Lifting his hand he reached for the railing across from him and used it to pull himself up as he pushed with his shaking legs. It was hard going, and twice he fell back to his butt in the attempt. But with one final pull and a strain in his legs, Trowa stood and stared down at the most beautiful angel he'd ever seen.  
  
Pale and wispy blond hair clung to equally pale powder white skin, and Trowa was stunned and fascinated by the tiny little hairs of Quatre's eyelashes. The boy was petite and Trowa found himself wondering how much of that was from genes as much as circumstance. His hands were tiny, delicate--the entire boy was delicate, embodying the innocence of youth and an inner soul that could not be corrupted. Trowa didn't know why, but he just knew Quatre's eyes were blue, blue like the oceans looked from outer space, not from the shore. His ears were small but pert, well proportioned to his face, as was his button nose that seemed to turn up at just the right angle to give him dignity without snobbery. His cheeks were gaunt though, and his shoulder bones protruded so that Trowa fancied he could see the brittleness of them even through the skin. There were dark circles under the boy's eyes and the effect only made the noted before lashes seem that much more like glowing lines on his face. His hair was thin, brittle looking and Trowa couldn't seem to stop himself from touching the strands, feeling there coarsens. The boy was beautiful and sickly, a fine line between that which was delicate like fine china and crystal, and that which was on the brink of death and abandonment. And it was there, standing in nothing but a pair of white hospital scrubs, cold bear feet touching the equally cold floor that Trowa remembered something from his dreams.  
  
Quatre's skin tasted like cool ice, fresh from nature on his parched tongue. A hint of salt, just a hint to add more flavor to the tasting, to make it that much more refreshing.  
  
With a start, Trowa reeled back, the abruptness of his ended memory causing him to step away from the metal cage and lose his balance. In the span of a thought he loosened his body to take the fall without injury; it never came.  
  
Deceptively thin arms encircled his waist and he felt suspended in mid-air as the person holding him supported his weight without comment. Unaccustomed to being touched in anyway, Trowa righted himself quickly before turning and looking down into a pair of cobalt blue eyes encased in Japanese features. The older boy spoke before Trowa had a chance to move.  
  
"Go slow, your balance is completely off, I'll support your weight until your ready." The tone was soft, quiet in a way that belied the steel beneath it. A small man of only five and a half feet, he conveyed a sense of power that immediately set Trowa on edge; but the dark hared boy seemed to understand. "I'm not here to hurt you. I came in to talk and saw you staring at Quatre. I caught you when you attempted to step back but fell. My name is Heero, we've met before."  
  
There was no nonsense to him, and Trowa's initial opinion of Heero changed instantly; he liked this guy. "I'll be fine."  
  
Heero nodded. "I'll step back but make sure you get to the bed." There was no indication Trowa had a choice with the help, so as Heero stood back away from him to spot, Trowa carefully moved back to his own bed. His legs were more at risk of failure than his arms, and he easily vaulted himself up the few inches of uncomfortable height. He noticed that while Heero did not touch him, or even attempt to, the other was poised to intercede if the need arose. It was this initial willingness to give him space while offering him assistance that shifted Heero immediately from enemy to something far less hostel.  
  
"I'm Trowa." He said, shifting so that his tired legs now rested on plush cushions and his back pressed against the pillow he'd spent the night on.  
  
Heero nodded again, and Trowa got the sense that Heero didn't talk much. The other waited patiently as Trowa situated himself before dragging a chair so that he could sit close by. He noticed the red box in Heero's hand only as an afterthought.  
  
"I was one of the men that sat with you when you first arrived. I don't expect you to remember me. We've met one other time but that's not important. This is for you." And with that he unceremoniously tore open the plastic wrapping on the box and presented Trowa with an assorted box of decadent chocolates. At Trowa's put off and questioning expression, Heero explained. "They're L-1 chocolates. Noteworthy only because their the best chocolates in the colonies. When I first arrived my Teacher had a box and they were the only thing I let my guard down long enough to acquire. Duo is always telling me that I have to learn to share my experiences. Therefore I'm sharing chocolate with you. This is yours, no strings attached, and I'll never call on you to return the favor. This is also not a bribe or anything other than something I would like you to have."  
  
The warning at the end would have seemed foreign to most, Trowa at least recognized that most did not have to offer up warnings when giving gifts. But Heero seemed to understand his reluctance, and a sudden and strange bond formed between them in those few passing seconds. For the second time in as many days, Trowa felt his guard go down. He didn't feel threatened by Heero, not in the least.  
  
That, and unknown to anyone but him, he loved chocolate!  
  
"Thank you, Heero."  
  
"Hai. You're welcome." With slow movements, Heero placed the now closed box onto Trowa's bedside table before turning back to face him. His next sentence caught Trowa off guard. "Duo say's I suck at talking."  
  
He was doing it before he even realized it, the air escaping his lungs before he could check it. The laugh sounded distant to him, as if someone else was doing it, taking in the breaths that accompanied the sounds. But it was him, and as Heero's eyes brightened in surprise and perhaps happiness, Trowa couldn't help but smile.  
  
"You seem to be doing well to me."  
  
A slight bow, in what must have been a far off practice for the young man, Heero thanked him with a returning half smirk. "You'll have to tell that to Duo."  
  
Curiosity got the better of him, even though he knew he shouldn't have let it. "Who's Duo?"  
  
This time Heero smiled. Not the half smile from before, but a full on smile that raised his eyes and lit up his face--his entire person. "Duo is…special. My partner, along with Wufei."  
  
That gave Trowa pause. He of course now understood that all of the men on this station were homosexual, and that some would have paired off. But to learn that this man and two others were partnered, it was quiet a shock. Painfully, he understood the schematics of such a relationship, but nothing about it appealed to him. Trowa knew if he ever found someone like his dream boy, he'd never, ever, ever share.  
  
Heero seemed to understand his silence. "Our relationship is uncommon, even here. There is only one other like ours, with three instead of two. However, we are happy, and that is enough." And with logic like that, who was he to argue.  
  
Suddenly the door opened, and Ralph came in carrying a tray layered with food and drink, Rashid right behind him. They both stopped dead at the sight of Heero.  
  
Ralph was the first to find his voice. "Heero, what are you doing here?"  
  
With a shrug the young man stood. "Duo directed me to share something with Trowa; I brought him chocolate. We had a nice conversation and now that you are back I will leave. Trowa," and Heero turned back to address him even as he prepared to leave. "I hope we will be able to talk again." He didn't really know what to say, so he just nodded. "Have a nice night." And with that, Heero left.  
  
With a sense of relief, Trowa noted that Heero had not ratted him out to Ralph.  
  
"Well, that was nice. Did you and Heero have a nice talk?" The question was loaded as Ralph placed the tray next to Trowa's bed. But he didn't know how much to say so instead nodded and looked at the food as hunger overwhelmed him. The chocolate had reminded him he was hungry, the food that he was starving.  
  
Ralph laughed. "Well, I'd tell you all the wonderful things you're about to eat, but I doubt you care. Just eat, you can tell Abdule you liked his hearty chicken with heavy gravy and blah blah blah, soup later, once I remember what's in it."  
  
From across the room Rashid spoke up as Trowa hungrily attacked the soup. "Hearty chicken with heavy gravy, long rice, and light ginger soup. Knowing him, he will want a full report and critique once Trowa is finished." The two men seemed to find the title funny and they scoffed at its length as they took seats, Ralph next to him, Rashid next to Quatre's bedside.  
  
With a pause he really didn't want to take, he addressed his general. "Quatre didn't move." His eyes locked with Rashid's for a moment before the giant slowly nodded and turned back to his Recruit. The rest of Trowa's meal was near completely silent.  
  
* * *  
  
Heero had been in earlier, Wufei by his side. They'd waited until the next day, when Trowa was well rested before dismissing Ralph and Rashid for food and bath. Heero had again dragged the chair over to the bed and quietly talked with him while Wufei had drawn blood, issued more drugs into the IV, and finally given Trowa a data pad containing information on all the classified viruses his body was harboring.  
  
"I can identify fourteen different viruses in your system, twelve of which I can cure you of. The other two are not sever and can be made to lie dormant with the right medications. You will be required to take medicines for the rest of your life to prevent an outbreak, but I'm sure you understand a few small pills are better than the virus itself." He'd nodded his agreement at the appropriate times before setting the data pad on the table to be forgotten.  
  
He'd been beyond amused when a flamboyant boy of perhaps nineteen had entered the room and proceeded to harass the other two. He learned quickly that the longhaired boy was Duo, the famous Duo from Heero's early admission, and Trowa watched as the three of them interacted together.  
  
"Trowa, you look thirsty, are you thirst? I could run down and get you a soda or something if you want. Why don't I do that, I'll just be right back." But Duo hadn't made it as Heero had--with supremely fast reflexes-- grabbed onto the three-foot braid.  
  
"Baka! He doesn't need a soda, he's got water right there."  
  
"Ow! Heero let go! Wufei, tell him to let go!"  
  
"Heero, let go."  
  
But the Japanese boy only smiled, winding the braid once around his wrist.  
  
"Heero! Come on, let go, please!"  
  
"Heero, unless you want your ass in the air and my hand print across it, let Duo go!" Trowa noticed that Heero's eyes had lit up and his face turned a bit pink from embarrassment, but the overall effect was more of arousal than rejection of the idea.  
  
But Heero released the hair and Duo instead found it quiet amusing to plop his bottom right onto Heero's lap and begin to squirm, his smile indicating when he'd achieved the desired effect. "Hee-chan, you're so predictable!" With that Duo spun, planted a sloppy kiss in his lover's mouth, before offering Trowa a wink and moving to give Wufei the same treatment. "Since it was my hair, Fei, can I please, please, please be the one to spank him, please?!"  
  
But while Trowa was becoming slightly embarrassed, Wufei was preparing to exact revenge. "I would have let you, but you've once again insisted on calling me that ridiculous nickname after I have repeatedly told you not to. Therefore you'll share in his fate." Suddenly, Duo grabbed Wufei by the jacket and pulled him in for a kiss that seemed to raise the temperature of the room by a good ten degrees.  
  
When it was over, Duo just winked and smiled. "I love it when my plans work so perfectly."  
  
  
  
But the mood had sobered quickly after that as Duo had moved to Quatre's bedside, carefully running his fingers through the boy's hair. "Is he getting any better, Wufei?" Trowa had himself wondered that same question and he turned like the others to examine the doctors unspoken words.  
  
"I haven't been able to find any indication of it. Quatre is still drifting in the coma. His body has regained its autonomic functions, but that is all." There was a sadness in Wufei's voice that spoke volumes of his compassion and true worry for his patient, and Trowa felt at once better about being under the doctor's care.  
  
Heero had offered Duo comfort then, and half an hour later found Trowa alone with the comatose boy. He'd considered getting up again, but he didn't want to fall, his bottom still hurt from his last battle with the floor. But more than that, he was afraid, afraid that if he stood and looked at the sleeping angel across from him, he wouldn't be able to look away.  
  
He'd found himself oddly soothed by the beeping of Quatre's cardiac monitor, and when he'd awoken in the middle of the night it was the comforting sound of another living being which cast him off to another dreamless sleep.  
  
There was a strange kind of draw he felt towards the sick boy, and it both frightened and intrigued him as nothing had before. He considered that perhaps it was just the boy's beauty which held him captive, and indeed he hoped that was so. Trowa had no intentions of making any attachments in this place, no matter what Ralph said. He wasn't entirely sure he planned to stay here, thinking that perhaps an escape was in order once he'd gotten better and knew the layout of the place.  
  
Remembering his resolve to be prepared to run when or if the time came, Trowa decided the least he could do would be to stretch his muscles. With a nod to himself, Trowa swung his deadened legs over the side of the bed and swung them a few times to get the blood flowing. With a sigh of resolved fate however, he shifted his eyes from his awkward legs to look at temptation and innocence personified.  
  
He froze in place when his green eyes met crystal blue. 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
  
Pain raced through every fiber of his body. Each movement he made pulled the skin taunt somewhere else, ruining his body's natural ability to stop the bleeding. He was light headed as the pain began to lessen, leaving him with the knowledge that he didn't have much longer to live. Dark spots shifted around his vision as the heat from the sun scorched his skin. His bloody clothes had been stripped from his body when he'd been thrown out of the city so that he now stood naked under the blazing sun; he knew his fate already.  
  
There was a sound, distant, but Quatre knew it was close--that only his impending death made everything seem so far away. He heard someone call his name, a torn and broken voice that Quatre knew and desperately never wanted to hear sound that way again.  
  
He tried to turn, to look behind him at the speaker, but the movement caused the dark spots to expand, blocking out the sun. His legs buckled under him and with a brief flash of pain he felt the desert sand crushed into his open wounds.  
  
It was getting harder and harder to breath and Quatre simply wanted to rest, he was so tired. Tired of everything, everything except one thing.  
  
"Trowa…"  
  
"Quatre!" Strong arms tried to wrap about him but they pulled against his burned and bleeding skin and Quatre's scream of agony halted further movement. "Quatre, no."  
  
He knew he wouldn't die right away, he'd linger, putting his loved ones in such agony. He didn't want that to happen, didn't want Trowa to suffer anymore than he already was going to. But there was nothing he could do, no way for him to fight what was coming. Now was not the time for hope but the time for action. Desperately he wished he could see Trowa's eyes one more time, eyes he'd loved from the moment he'd seen them.  
  
"Trowa…I lo…ove you…"  
  
This time when Trowa lifted him from the sand, desperately calling his name and begging him not to leave, Quatre didn't feel the pain, he didn't feel anything at all.  
  
* * *  
  
The beeping sound had woken him up, it was annoying. There was another sound too, one that didn't belong on his satellite. It was also bright, too bright, their was no lighting on his satellite either, at least none that could function without the aid from the solar plates, and he shouldn't be in range for them, at least not now.  
  
Slowly, mindful of the bright lights, Quatre opened his eyes. It was too bright. White light halloed everything, making outlines impossible to define. He slammed his eyes shut. He must have slept longer than he'd thought, the satellite must have already rotated to gather the sun's energy. But the lights were too bright, and his vision was bleary, as if he hadn't opened his eyes in a very long time. Resisting the urge to rub his eyes, he lay quietly, absorbing the warmth.  
  
The beeping was still there and Quatre found himself wincing at the only thing that sound could mean. His generator must be malfunctioning. That explained the light and heat. His cell packs would deplete their energy too quickly at this rate and he'd be in the dark for weeks before the satellite's orbit returned to gather more solar energy. He had to get up and fix it, he didn't have a choice, even if he was warm.  
  
Resigning himself to the task, Quatre opened his eyes in time to see a blurry dark object rise from in front of him. He couldn't see it! His eyes wouldn't adjust no matter how hard he blinked. The thing was moving, swinging back and forth.  
  
Panic welled up inside him and Quatre found himself frozen with fear as he tried desperately to clear his vision. One blink, then another--it wasn't working!  
  
Suddenly the dark object stopped moving and Quatre felt the sudden shock from the other person--for person is what the dark spot was.  
  
For a moment neither figure moved, and Quatre found it impossible to breathe, his heart beating so quickly he thought he could hear it reflected in the beeping of the generator's warning.  
  
There were so many emotions, his own fear, the shock from the other person, his own shock at waking up on his satellite not alone. What was this person doing on his--wait! His father! No it couldn't be, it was too soon! And he'd slept though the greeting his father always expected. Allah no! He'd never survive this beating.  
  
He was so confused, his body aching from the sudden tightness of his muscles. He closed his eyes, trying one last time to blink away the confusion. This time it worked.  
  
At the flash of distinct shapes and colors Quatre's world fell into place. He was lying on some kind of bed, and directly across from him was his father, sitting on the opposite bed in…pajamas? But wait. His eyes were the wrong color, green instead of blue, and why did his father look so young, so…vulnerable? And shock? Shouldn't his father be furious with him? And the room, it didn't look anything like his satellite.  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
That voice didn't sound like his father's. Questioning, as if his father didn't know exactly who he was. And then, just as clearly as the room had come into focus, so too did Quatre's mind.  
  
The Maguanacs. He was a Maguanac. His father had brought him to the station in hopes of getting rid of him, and he'd succeeded. Rashid and Abdule. They were his family now, his Teacher and fellow Recruit. He was safe here, his father couldn't get to him anymore. Allah loved him, and he was to become the defender of nations protecting Muslims everywhere. He was Quatre of the Maguanacs. He was safe. Then who the hell was that?!  
  
The voice tried again. "Quatre? Is that your--"  
  
Quatre didn't know who this person was! He didn't recognize him! And the emotions, the turmoil coming off the other were like weights against his mind. Where was Rashid? Where was Abdule? Oh God they'd left him! He was all alone, again! NO! He couldn't be! He couldn't be alone again! He'd rather die than be alone all over again! NO!  
  
With every ounce of strength he possessed Quatre pushed with his whole body to get away from the voice and those emotions. But with dawning horror, Quatre realized his body was like something without structure and it collapsed against the sheets, his struggles and whimpers doing little more than attesting to his weakened state. In vain he tried to slink way, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate and his attempts to move away did little more than dent the mattress he lay on.  
  
In a last and desperate attempt, Quatre pulled his body inwards, his legs-- though uncooperative--pulled up, bringing knees to chest and arms about his head, protecting all of himself that he could. His whimpers were fierce, the shaking of his limbs not even a concern as he waited for the abuse he was sure to suffer.  
  
He sensed confusion but wasn't sure if it was his own or the other occupants. He heard a sigh past his whimpers and the constant beeping that had become nothing but background noise in the wake of his terrifying discovery.  
  
A sudden rustling of fabric alerted him to the figure's movements and Quatre curled in on himself even more, so that his chest barely had room to draw in oxygen. There was a thump and then a soft curse, and Quatre opened his eyes in the darkness of his arms to wonder what that sound could mean.  
  
More rustling fabric and a few more swear words from the other before Quatre heard the scraping of something against false wood. The next thing he knew the mattress indented heavily by his drawn up feet, and the shock of it propelled him to sit up, eyes frantic.  
  
But his muscles wouldn't hold him and as he fearfully noted that the boy-- for that is what he was--was sitting on his bed. His arms gave out from under him and he sank against the pillows, defeat and fear clearly written across his face.  
  
The boy stared at him, his emerald eyes boring into Quatre so that the blond felt trapped in his place, his heart and chest racing against his terror. Those eyes, they were so familiar, and so frighteningly blank. They studied him, assessing him in ways that Quatre couldn't understand. The boy didn't move any further towards him, and so Quatre stayed where he was, tears of fear brimming his eyes but refusing to fall.  
  
Finally, the boy seemed to come to a decision.  
  
With slow and deliberate movements, the boy looked down at a box in his hand before removing the lid with care. Quatre watched with the cold air of the unknown dancing over his senses. He didn't know what was going on, he was alone, he was weak, and he couldn't seem to get away from the confusion that the other boy was giving off in waves.  
  
When the lid was removed, another of Quatre's sense became aware. There was a sweet smell, like sugar and something he could remember from his childhood but couldn't place.  
  
He watched as the boy removed a white sheet from the box, and then the smell overwhelmed him as Quatre saw the darkly colored objects within. Some were round while others looked domed, some square while others had no shape he could define. They were all small though, smaller than a quarter of his palm, and Quatre found he was curious enough to take his eyes away from the stranger's and focus on the box.  
  
He felt the emotions from the other change. Where once there was confusion now was a sense of something close to happiness. Startled by this, Quatre looked away from the box and up toward the boy, weariness in his eyes and fatigue in his face.  
  
They locked eyes for a long moment before the boy slowly extended the box towards him. The voice that spoke was soothing and calm, the tone deep and relaxing.  
  
"Would you like a chocolate, Quatre?"  
  
What?! He didn't even know this boy! He was in a strange place, abandoned by his Teacher and Abdule, struggling just to remain upright, and this boy was offering him something sweet smelling from a red box! This wasn't happening!  
  
Shaking, Quatre pulled away from the proffered box. He struggled, and after a few seconds of trial, managed to draw his knees up against his upright chest. His arms went around his knees, and his head, too heavy for his weakened neck, fell to rest against them. He closed his eyes in the hopes of vanishing.  
  
But the boy didn't seem deterred.  
  
"Would you like a chocolate, Quatre?"  
  
How did this boy know his name? Opening his eyes, Quatre regarded the boy in front of him. He was tall, Quatre could see that right away. There was something familiar about him too, his eyes haunted something in Quatre's mind. But his hair, falling over one eye, it was so much like his father's, and Quatre found himself in a desperate struggle--half of him wanting to trust the boy completely, the other terrified to even look at him.  
  
Softly he shook his head.  
  
But again, as if the boy were on a broken data stream, he repeated himself one more time.  
  
"Would you like a chocolate, Quatre?"  
  
Now, afraid that he'd missed some custom he didn't understand, his eyes took on more fear and his body collapsed into itself even tighter. But, for some unknown reason he spoke, his voice shaky and quiet at best.  
  
"…how do…how do you know my name?"  
  
The boy seemed to think on it a moment, confusion in his eyes again. Then, casually, he shrugged. "We met in the hallway outside the camps, then again in the hanger. Someone said your name was Quatre."  
  
And then it clicked into place. That was how he knew this boy. Trowa, his name was Trowa, and he was the other Recruit. He'd been the one to keep…Duo! Yes Duo, from getting too close to him. He knew Trowa, they'd met before, in the hallway, the hanger, and…somewhere else?  
  
Shaking his head silently at his last thoughts, Quatre shifted; his tight grip about his knees lessening.  
  
"T-Trowa, right?"  
  
The other nodded his head.  
  
"Would you like a chocolate, Quatre?"  
  
The dialogue seemed strange to Quatre; how the boy kept repeating the same question, over and over. Worried he'd somehow insult the boy, Quatre tried his best to cover up his ignorance.  
  
"I-I don't know. I've…never had one before."  
  
He sensed it first, a flash of pain from the boy across from him. It was so foreign, this feeling that others felt pain for what he'd been through. Quatre watched as Trowa nodded his head and slowly drew the box back towards his chest. Nimble and long fingers carefully ran over the undisturbed box of chocolates before selecting one. Trowa brought the dark blob to his mouth before biting into half of it. His eyes closed and he seemed to savor the flavor before opening them again and swallowing the treat.  
  
Quatre stared, stunned and silent at the display before him. Watching Trowa bite into the chocolate and roll the food around in his mouth had caused a strange sensation to course through his body, resulting in a shiver he didn't understand.  
  
But Trowa was looking at him now, the boy's hand and fingers extending the other half of the chocolate towards him. Quatre was startled when he found his body had not flinched away.  
  
"It has a cherry in the center, surrounded by a cherry liquid. It's not poisoned, otherwise I never would have taken half. Try it." And the sweet was then slightly shaken in Quatre's direction.  
  
This was nuts! He wasn't going to share food with the--  
  
He watched his hand as it slowly reached out to take the half-eaten piece of chocolate. What was he doing!? Why was his hand moving without his instructions?! Allah, what was going on?!  
  
As if outside his body, Quatre watched his hand accept the chocolate, mindful to keep skin from touching skin. Then in less time than a thought, the candy was brought to his lips and pushed past them into the waiting cavern of his mouth.  
  
Flavor exploded, and a sugary sweetness invaded his senses so that Quatre had to close his eyes to capture all the different sensations happening in his mouth. The chocolate was creamy, the sweet center of the liquid cherry flowing over his tongue and tickling his molars. The cherry was a sold mass and with delicate movements, Quatre allowed his teeth to mash the fruit into a paste that tasted even sweeter than the whole. He found himself whimpering at the taste, it was like heaven, a taste he'd never had before and desperately wanted to have again.  
  
It was a long minute that Quatre savored the first taste of chocolate he'd had in over ten years. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he found Trowa staring at him, a shocked and dark expression in his eyes. It was gone in a flash, replaced by the blank look that was often there, but his eyes remained the same, the green of his eyes nearly encompassed by the black of his pupils.  
  
And then without question or fan fair, it happened again. Without words, Trowa selected another chocolate and brought it to his mouth. Again he bit into half of it and savored the taste before opening his eyes and slowly handing the confection to Quatre.  
  
"There's caramel in the center. It's a little chewy."  
  
And then Quatre took the candy, his mind now working with his body to accept the gift. Then, just as before, the flavor exploded in his mouth, firing off senses Quatre wasn't even aware he had. This time, when the chocolate was finished, he brought his fingers to his tongue to lick off the last of the sugar.  
  
And again.  
  
"Nuts this time. A walnut I think."  
  
And again.  
  
"Coconut. It's sweet and a little crunchy." A pause. "They're my favorites."  
  
The boy seemed startled that he'd said the last but he'd seemed more startled when Quatre refused to take the treat.  
  
"If it's your favorite…you eat it."  
  
For a moment neither boy moved, and then Trowa shook his head and offered the candy again. "You won't know if they're your favorite unless you try them yourself. Besides, there's another on the bottom tray." Again, another pause. "I-I want you to try it."  
  
A little startled, Quatre took the candy and placed it onto his waiting tongue. It was sweet and as Trowa had said, crunchy. He worked the fibers around his molars, struggling with his fatigue to finish the candy.  
  
"Did you like that one?" It seemed important to Trowa, as if he truly needed to know if Quatre had liked it or not.  
  
He thought for a moment, trying to analyze how he felt about the candy. Finally he nodded. "It was good, sweet. I'm…a little tired…I don't know why. It was hard to chew it so much."  
  
"Was it your favorite?" There was no desperation in Trowa's voice, but his eyes--his soul--seemed to carry it. Quatre was stunned silent by it, afraid to answer the wrong way and upset his new…friend?  
  
Carefully, he shook his head. "I-I think I liked the…nut one better."  
  
"Oh."  
  
And suddenly, Quatre was terrified by the continued blank expression on Trowa's face.  
  
"I-Is that bad?"  
  
Trowa considered this for a moment before shaking his head.  
  
"No, it's good. That means I can have the one on the bottom tray. Besides, you've never liked the coconut ones…" Trowa's voice fell away as he realized what he'd just said, and his eyes flew to meet Quatre's, a thinly veiled panic settling in both of their eyes.  
  
"…I've never had coconut before."  
  
Trowa nodded, his eyes still large and confused, a touch of fear in their dilation. "I don't know why…I said that."  
  
For a long moment they just stared at each other, neither moving as they explored each other's eyes.  
  
The sound of the hydraulic door burst into their moment of discovery however, and the loud exclamation had Quatre sitting back with fear, and Trowa turning around to glare at the interruption.  
  
"HOLY SHIT! QUATRE, YOU'RE AWAKE!" With that, Duo flew into the room and ran up to the bottom edge of Quatre's bed.  
  
Suddenly the fear was back, and as if the last fifteen minutes had never happened, Quatre pulled in on himself, cowering away from the newcomer. His body began to shake again, and his eyes looked fearfully between Duo and Trowa.  
  
Duo seemed to understand a split second later as he pushed away from the bed and took two steps back. "Hey, it's cool Q. Everything's going to be ok."  
  
The door opened again however, and with a sense of relief he didn't think he'd ever be able to explain or understand, tears gathered in his eyes and fell down his cheeks as he saw the powerful image of his Teacher and brother in the doorway.  
  
"Quatre!"  
  
He didn't even know he'd done it until much later. His body uncurled from itself and with his entire body he opened himself up for Rashid's embrace. The giant man was strong, pulling Quatre tightly to him, lifting Quatre's tired body against a chest that was strong and capable. Thick fingers ran through his hair, and Quatre felt the familiar emotions of his Teacher flood his senses, the relief and fear momentarily overpowering him.  
  
"Oh, God Quatre, we were so worried." And there was Abdule, his long fingers running comfortingly across his back. Abdule maneuvered himself so that he too was hugging the fragile blond.  
  
Quatre's fingers gripped at Rashid's shirt, his body trying desperately to crawl into the comfort and love he sensed from his Teacher. Quatre's emotions were turbulent, the emotions of those around him pounded into his senses, filling the void of nothingness with feelings he didn't dare hope were all for him.  
  
The tears of frustration and relief fell from his eyes and he rubbed his face into Rashid's shoulder as the man softly rocked him back and forth, occasionally laying light kisses into his hair.  
  
He didn't recognize the contact as something to be afraid of. He wanted it, wanted to remember what it felt like to be in these arms, to feel warm and protect, to feel wanted. He'd been in a cold dark place before, silent and scary, his dreams haunted by the nightmares of his past. When he'd thought Rashid had abandoned him…well it wasn't true, his Teacher was here, Rashid was here. Quatre just wanted to melt into him and never let go.  
  
His voice came out as a sob when the words finally worked past his lips.  
  
"You--you came. You--came b--back. You--didn't--didn't leave--me."  
  
The arms about him tightened, and he felt Abdule's hold on him tighten as well. "Never, Quatre. I would never leave you. Never."  
  
"Quatre you silly, silly boy! God I was so scared, so scared…" And then Abdule was crying and Quatre found his arms went from being around Rashid to being around Abdule. His brother held him tightly, while Quatre gripped the fellow Arabian about the neck, refusing to let go as Rashid's massive frame enveloped them both.  
  
"Hush now, both of you. Everything will be all right now. Everything will be alright."  
  
Quatre nodded just as Abdule did, the words of their Teacher reinforcing what they already knew.  
  
Safe and warm, loved and comforted, Quatre felt the last of his strength give out as his hands fell from about Abdule's neck. His brother gripped his frame as Quatre sank, his eyes drifting shut as he struggled to remain awake.  
  
"Rad?"  
  
"Quatre, are you alright? Quatre?"  
  
He tried to nod, tried to tell them that he was tired, that the emotions pressing upon him were making him sleepy. They were all warm, all except that one familiar one, the one he somehow knew was from Trowa. It seemed colder somehow, as if…as if not happy about the reunion happening before him, as if he was…jealous.  
  
Not wanting to isolate his new friend, Quatre struggled to turn his head, and looked to where he'd last seen Trowa. But the boy wasn't there, and Quatre felt a well of panic settle around him that brought life to his body as he struggled to pull away from Rashid and sit up.  
  
"Quatre, what is--"  
  
"W-where's--Trowa?" His voice was tired but strong, his need to find the other boy outweighing even his need to reassure his Teacher.  
  
"Here." And with the sound of Trowa's voice, Quatre turned his head to see that the red haired boy had moved back to his own bed, a tall and burly man standing over him protectively, a beefy hand on Trowa's thin shoulder.  
  
Suddenly frightened by the newcomer so close to Trowa, Quatre recoiled against Rashid's chest, holding tightly the arm that settled across his own. He eyed the stranger warily, watching for false movements that could harm his new friend. There was something about this man that Quatre didn't like, something about him that grated on him, made the hairs on the back of his neck want to stand on end. He felt…jealous?!  
  
"Trowa?" His voice was quiet, even to him.  
  
The other boy seemed to pause for a second, not accustomed to being spoken to. Finally he nodded for Quatre to continue.  
  
A quick glance at the man beside Trowa convinced him to ask his question. "What did you…did you want for the…chocolate?"  
  
The question seemed to confuse everyone in the room, he could sense it strongly from his Teacher and the man beside Trowa. But oddly, Duo and the boy Quatre recognized as the doctor, didn't seemed confused at all, and neither did Trowa.  
  
In the other bed, Trowa sat up a little straighter, absently brushing off the hand of the man towering above him--much to Quatre's relief.  
  
"Nothing. It was a…gift, for me and now a gift for you."  
  
Stunned, Quatre searched critically trying to find some kind of hidden meaning or ulterior motive for Trowa's kindness. In the end, he found none, and cautiously relaxed against Rashid, his eyes closing on their own from fatigue.  
  
"Th-thank you, Trowa." A yawn escaped his lips so that he almost didn't hear Trowa's reply.  
  
"Y-you're welcome."  
  
When Rashid called his name a few seconds later, Quatre simply couldn't find the strength to answer. Instead, he let sleep wash over him and take him away. 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
  
"And no matter what, don't let him overdo it." Wufei nearly had his hands on his hips as he ordered Rashid and Abdule to become willing slaves for Quatre. Over the last week, Quatre had come to learn that Wufei enjoyed doing what Duo called, "giving the Sermon on the Mount." Quatre just thought it was too much trouble to be going through for someone as insignificant as himself.  
  
"I assure you, Wufei, I have no intention of letting Quatre, 'overdo it'. I will bring him back tomorrow for his check-up and the next round of REHIV." Rashid tightened his grip about Quatre's body as he cradled the boy to his chest. Unlike Trowa who had been in decent physical shape before the coma, Quatre's body had been far from it. Under the two plus weeks of inactivity, his muscle tone had deteriorated drastically, and while he tried as much as he could, he simply could not yet hold himself up. It exhausted him some days to simply sit up, and so Rashid was now carrying him back to their apartment.  
  
Learning that he couldn't hold his own weight had been a horrible experience for Quatre. A few days after waking up, Rashid had taken him from the bed and moved him to a corner of the hospital room.  
  
"Quatre, I want you to support as much of your own weight as you can. Do not fear, I will catch you if you fall." Abdule had been standing next to them as well, and while his brother had not yet touched him, Quatre was unconcerned about the thought.  
  
Abdule had touched him quite a bit since he'd awoken, and Quatre had had no bad reactions to the stimulus. But on this occasion and the ones that had since followed it, Quatre found he could not tolerate his brother's touch.  
  
Rashid hadn't expected him to fall so quickly. His Teacher had barely let go before Quatre's body fell like a granite stone. Abdule was quicker, capturing Quatre under the shoulders and supporting his weight. But he'd been shirtless and the second Abdule's hands had made contact with his flesh, Quatre had completely lost all sense of reason.  
  
He'd screamed, blood curdling cries for mercy as he struggled to detach himself from Abdule's grip. Neither had understood, both his Teacher and his brother had assumed he'd hurt himself. It had been Trowa who had streaked across the room to wrench Quatre's rapidly weakening body from Abdule's hold.  
  
Quatre couldn't remember much of what happened after that, but Duo had told him Trowa had carried him back to the bed while telling Abdule that Quatre was not yet ready to be touched by him. His newest friend had said that it was so strange because once Trowa had placed Quatre into the bed, it had been as if the taller boy didn't know why he was standing protectively next to Quatre's huddled body. Trowa had finally just shrugged his shoulders and taken a nap when Rashid and Ralph's questions had become too annoying.  
  
They'd tested his reaction to Abdule again since then with much the same result, and Quatre berated himself for what he was doing to his fellow Recruit. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. He tried, like that night the three of them had lain on their bed and pressed their fingers to Quatre's shoulders. He'd tried to be strong, but the moment Abdule touched him the reaction was immediate and uncontrollable. He felt horrible sensing the misery rolling off of Abdule, but his brother's outward appearance was understanding and supportive, and Quatre didn't trust his newly encouraged empathic abilities to discern the truth.  
  
The strange thing was that he didn't react violently when Abdule's skin did not touch his own, and now as his brother touched his cloth covered arm, he felt no reason to flee or beg.  
  
"Abdule?" His brother turned to face Wufei. "Remember only light foods, soups and simple meals without much spices." Quatre couldn't help it, he blushed under the memory of his first morning awake. The food had been too heavy and as the morning had progressed he'd been terribly and violently sick. He didn't dare try to remember more of that episode of his life, no matter how good the food had tasted.  
  
"I won't forget. And I'll remember that he needs at least four of those shakes everyday too. Not to mention that Mr. Pale here needs some sunlight."  
  
"Yes, make sure he sits in the camps for a little while everyday. I understand that the experience isn't entire pleasant for you, Quatre, but you will need the UVB rays to help the REHIV combat the virus. You won't need too much sun, perhaps a half hour over the course of the day. If the emotions become too much for you in one half hour sitting then leave and come back."  
  
The virus had been a horrible conversation. Rashid had become so mad. His Teacher had raved that they couldn't find a reason for him to have contracted the HIV virus, but Quatre could not think of a way and after a visit to Master Habsaba's quarters, Rashid had been oddly silent on the subject. For his part, Quatre cared little. He didn't feel sick, and Wufei promised that he and Trowa would be fine in a few months. Since he didn't feel sick, and it was only temporary, he felt little reason to dwell on it. It helped that the REHIV drug prevented him from spreading the virus through accident.or any other means.  
  
Quatre nodded his head in understanding. Wufei had been so wonderful to him. The boy doctor had almost immediately set Quatre at ease. Forthright and gentle, Wufei had gained a measure of trust from Quatre, and he was willing to do as the slightly older boy instructed.  
  
Wufei, Duo, and Heero had been constant companions in his and Trowa's hospital room. While Quatre had at first been wary of all three, he'd come to look forward to their visits, even Heero's--with his intense and penetrating eyes.  
  
Duo had at first been overwhelming, but once the older boy had come to understand that he simply not could assimilate that much energy in one sitting, he'd calmed down, and Quatre had found he liked him very much. They played vid games on the Vidcom that had been installed in the hospital room, and Quatre had won nearly every game after the first few. Finally, Duo had insisted that Quatre had been cheating. Worried that he was insulting Duo somehow, Quatre had purposefully began to lose; it had been Heero who had discovered his duplicity, those cobalt blue eyes not missing anything.  
  
In the end, Duo had apologized, and Quatre had lost every single game he and Heero played together.  
  
Heero both intimidated him and piqued his interest. The boy was quiet like himself and Trowa, but Quatre could easily see the affection he held for his two lovers. It was perhaps that underlying affection that finally settled Heero in Quatre's mind. He'd been wary of the boy since Wufei had introduced him as Quatre's physical therapist, but Heero had proven gentle and compassionate, and Quatre found--that while he hated it when Heero had to touch him, he could at least tolerate it in short burst so long as no skin touched.  
  
But skin on skin was no problem with Trowa. While the two did not talk overly much--neither one very talkative--they had forged a friendship stronger than with the others. It was more like they were at ease with each other, than friendly. If they were alone together, they didn't always talk, but the silence was comfortable, welcome even to the turbulence around them. They'd played some of the vid games together and were fairly evenly matched, and together they'd devoured yet another box of chocolates-- Trowa consuming all of the coconut one's, Quatre the caramel nut one's.  
  
His coma partner--as Duo called him--had been released two days ago, but Trowa had come to see him at least once a day with the others, and Quatre had learned that he and Heero had been spending time together as well.  
  
Now it was his turn to go home, and while the idea of calling the apartment he now resided in home was still foreign, it was not unpleasant.  
  
Presently, Rashid shifted him again, drawing Quatre's attention back to the conversation with Wufei. "Make sure he goes to PT with Heero, and I'll make sure Duo's too busy to make inappropriate comments." Quatre knew that the things Duo had said to Heero had made the other boy increasingly uncomfortable and.sweaty, but he had no idea what the long hared boy had been talking about. The only thing he knew was that it ended with him having a shorter session than usual, and a very disheveled Duo who came in half an hour later to play a few games with him. The manic had apologized, but when he'd learned that Quatre had no idea what had been going on, he'd seemed to think that the situation was rather funny. Even Trowa had smiled at what he later called Quatre's "innocence." It was all so confusing really.  
  
And then it happened. First Rashid nodded in acceptance, then Wufei nodded that he was finished, and then they nodded together in parting, and finally, they were leaving the infirmary and going home.  
  
The walk was hard on Quatre. His shields were weaker than usual, and the happiness of the people they passed pressed heavily upon him. He kept his eyes closed through most of the walk, hiding himself in the darkness of his mind until the pressure of so many foreign minds relented. He heard Abdule press in the access code, and felt Rashid take that final step into their apartment.  
  
"WELCOME HOME, QUATRE!!!" Startled, Quatre sat up in his Teacher's arms and looked about the room. There were quite a few people standing about the living room, most holding drinks or napkins with bits of food on them. Colorful streamers hung from the walls, while friendly music played on the hidden speakers. Food lay on the pulled out table, and the smells set Quatre's mouth instantly watering.  
  
But it was all so overwhelming. Reeling from all the stimulus and emotions, Quatre's eyes settled on the first thing his mind recognized-- Trowa's lithe frame leaning against the wall next to his bedroom door. Trowa's eyes intensely watched Quatre's reaction to the events, and for a moment, Quatre could not look away, trapped by emeralds in the quarry stone. But a rush of black caught his attention, and Quatre barely had a chance to assimilate the dark form as Duo before the other boy was directly in front of him.  
  
"This is a party, Quatre! It's a 'Welcome Home, Quatre' party. Here, let me introduce you to everyone. You've met most of them before, but reintroduction's are always good when you're new. Rashid, if you'll just follow me about the room, we're going to make the rounds." With a laugh, Duo shook his head before moving over to the left of the door.  
  
"You already know, Trowa. He and Heero strung the banner." Duo pointed to a ream of paper that hung from two lamps that read, "Welcome Home".  
  
"Next we have Heero. If you don't know him by now then your sleeping through PT and Wufei's gonna be really pissed. Heero made some of the food, and Wufei said you could probably eat it without too much trouble. It's all real Japanese food, and there's even some of this really yummy soup called Miso. I love it so much! Don't mind the green stuff, I'll tell you what that is later." Duo winked, and Quatre, who was still too stunned to properly react to the situation just stared dumbly.  
  
Duo seemed to notice. "Hey, Q, you just let me know if I start to overwhelm you. Rashid made me promise that I'd break this thing up the moment you got tired, so you just let me know when you've had enough.  
  
"Anyway, this tall blond guy is Zechs. He's Heero's Teacher, and Treize's number one bed buddy. You guys have the same hair color! Quatre! I bet you'd look great with long hair!"  
  
Zechs chuckle, and Quatre found himself trapped by the man's eyes--they were so much like Heero's. "It takes quite a lot to pull off this hair, Duo, besides, with bangs like those," he pointed kindly to Quatre's wayward bangs. "Who needs long hair? It's good to see you again, Quatre. I'm glad to hear that you're feeling better." His voice. It was soft and gentle, warm and inviting. Against his common sense, Quatre found himself nodding back to the tall blond.  
  
"And this is the other half to the matching set, Treize. Rumor has it he's some factious dictator, but I think he just plays the part 'cause Wufei likes him better that way. Speaking of which, Treize is Wufei's Teacher. I know, Zechs and Treize, Wufei and Heero, it's a strange, strange world we live in today." Duo mockingly shook his head as Treize stepped forward and offered a brilliant smile to Quatre.  
  
"I am also glad to see that you are doing well, Quatre. I have heard that you are quite the strategists, and look forward to a game of chess when you feel up to it." His demeanor was sincere, and Quatre found his body now moved easier to nod once again. "Untill then," and Treize neatly offered a half bow. Instantly, Quatre remembered the hours of edict lesson's he hadn't thought about in nearly five years.  
  
With an inclination of his chin, Quatre bowed back as much as his current position of being carried allowed. "Until next we met, Mr...Treize." He stumbled over the last part, his mind searching to provide his mouth with the man's proper family name. But his words had been powerfully spoken, the years of training making them strong with conviction and breeding. The room was silent as everyone stared at the waifish boy with the suddenly powerful voice.  
  
Later he would ponder how strange he must have looked there, broke and yet proud, damaged and yet in control. It was a testament to his edict teacher, and a brief encounter with the type of man he might have grown into had he been brought up the heir to the Winner fortune. But Treize seemed to recognize what had just happened, and he laughed heartily even as Rashid looked on with confused eyes at them both.  
  
"It would seem we've both had a few too many lessons in the proper way to issue and receive a challenge. My apologies, Quatre, it was not my intention to turn this into such a formal meeting." The man's smile set Quatre at ease, and he nodded once again, admitting the humor of the events.  
  
Duo looked confused but finally shrugged his shoulders and moved on.  
  
"And this pasty faced, wrinkly old coot is my Teacher, Howard. Don't mind his clothes, he always dresses like something from Before Colony. I do recommend you stay away from the facial hair though, he's old so he likes to come up behind you and give you whisker burns when you're not looking."  
  
Quatre sensed it immediately, it cut through all the other emotions in the room. Duo loved his Teacher, adored the older man not like a lover as Abdule did Rashid, but as a grandfather, a true grandfather. It was in his eyes, in the way those violet orbs gazed into the dark sunglasses of the other. It was in the way that Quatre could sense the older man's love for his Recruit in the crooked smile, the way that his hand clasped one dark cloth covered shoulder, and the way that Howard looked first to acknowledge Duo's introduction before acknowledging Quatre. It was so perfect between them, so honest and pure that Quatre couldn't even find it in himself to be jealous, it just wouldn't be right.  
  
"Hey, Quatre. This brat of mine hasn't been bothering you too much, now has he?" Quatre shook his head. "Good, he could overwhelm a Gundanium Mecha if he put his mind to it. Now don't be a stranger, understand? I expect to see you over at our place playing vid games once you're on your feet again, got it?" Overwhelmed by the man's kindness, Quatre nodded his head.  
  
"Don't mind him, Quatre, he's always like that. Next we have Ralph, who you already know is Trowa's Teacher. And this is his best friend, Nikol. Nikol's the best non-Recruit pilot we have, but Heero runs circles around him in his sleep."  
  
"Whatever you say, Duo. Hi, Quatre, it's nice to finally met you."  
  
He sensed it immediately, something odd, something off about the man in front of him. Nikol seemed all right, he was smiling kindly to him, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But something about this man seemed familiar, some trait in him was similar to one Quatre had sensed in the past, he just didn't know what.  
  
He must have been staring though, because Rashid looked down to check on him. "Quatre, are you getting tired?" He was, but didn't want Duo to be disappointed. He shook his head and then looked to Duo to continue, not daring to glance back at Nikol.  
  
"If your sure, Quatre?" He nodded to his friend. "Ok well, this is Auda, he and Abdule are pretty good friends. They spent five years as Recruits together until Auda passed him. Auda's actually the guy that issues passing grades here, so I'm gonna shut up now." Duo winked at Quatre who was more confused now than ever. Grades?  
  
Auda seemed to understand. "I teach. You and the others are still young enough to attend classes if you were on the outside, so it's only proper you get teaching on the inside. I'm not as bad as Duo makes me out to be. Besides, he, Wufei and Heero are mostly taking vid classes for university credits now. You and Trowa though are still in my domain of teaching, WHAHHHHHHHA!"  
  
Startled by the wicked sound that suddenly issued from the man before him, Quatre reeled back until his head bumped into Rashid's shoulder. Abdule was the first to save him. "For the love of Allah! Auda, don't scare him like that! Geese, as if he's not already freaking about going back to school, now he's got your sick rendition of the B Movie bad guy laugh running though his head. Rashid and I will be lucky to get him to sleep tonight!"  
  
Auda had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry, Quatre. Don't mind me, I'm really a pushover. I'll make you work, but I'm the last person in the world for you to worry about. I'll show you tomorrow. You and Trowa are scheduled for aptitude testing tomorrow. Don't worry about them." He wasn't worried. How could he be worried? He had no idea what an aptitude test was in the first place.  
  
Then Duo was turning, and as Rashid moved to follow, Quatre felt every muscle in his Teachers frame tighten up. Concerned, he looked up into Rashid's face only to see a dark expression leveled at the person Duo was trying to introduce him too. Worried about Rashid's reaction, Quatre hesitantly turned back.  
  
It was Master Habsaba.  
  
"Quatre, you remember Master Habsaba; Great Hall, big throne, leader of the Maguanacs. You remember."  
  
He did. He remembered the wizen man who had looked so frail and had turned out to be so strong against his father. He remembered the throne of precious gems and gold that this man had sat upon, his eyes dancing with command. He remembered one of those bony hands holding onto Abdule's shoulder as his brother had tried to save him from his father's wrath. He remembered that this man had been the first to reveal that he was an empath. He remembered so much about this man, he remembered.everything.  
  
Even with a cane and hunched shoulders, Master Habsaba was still tall enough so that Quatre was looking at him now eye-level. The old eyes, once filled with power and compassion seemed nearly frightened now, and Quatre sensed the need for forgiveness like a pain in this man's entire being. Quatre blinked for a moment, and when his gaze once again rested on Master Habsaba's, the tears he saw gathered on wrinkles prompted him to react.  
  
Slowly, cautious of his shift in weight, Quatre leaned across the twelve inches of space permeated with sorrow and self-hatred. Twelve inches that separated man from boy, Leader from Recruit, sinner from redeemer.  
  
With gentle fingers, Quatre brought the pads of his fingers to the back of coarse salt and pepper hair. Minimal pressure guided the figure forward, until twelve inches was reduced to six, then three, and finally, none.  
  
It was a long time before Quatre spoke as, listening to the weeping confessions of an old man. Tears soaked the shirt he wore, absorbing through the fabric to touch his skin, to touch his heart. A long time passed as he held Master Habsaba close, his hands resting against folds of skin dotted with age spots. His fingers occasionally shifted, causing the Arabic to flow more freely from the one in his arms. It was a long time before Quatre spoke, the confusion of everyone in the room registering in his mind; the dawning realization that none of them understood the ancient dialect being spoken by their Master or this small blond Recruit.  
  
Carefully, Quatre pulled back. His eyes locked on those of puffy red, damp and foreboding as they waited. The room was silent, holding its breath as it noticed the change in Quatre was like the change Trowa had gone through only days before. When he finally spoke, his words was soft and gentle, compassionate and caring, powerful and commanding, and alien to all but Master Habsaba.  
  
"I forgive you, Habsaba. Allah is most displeased, but if it brings you some measure of peace, I at least forgive for your trespasses against me." He paused, his back straightening, his posture shifting. With a viper like motion Quatre's hand found Habsaba's chin and forced it up, locking it in a grip as solid as his faith. "But Allah is most displeased, and my forgiveness does not cover what befell Trowa. Allah is forgiving and great, Habsaba. You disobeyed Him, now you must repair what you destroyed.  
  
"Both require guidance, now more than ever, but both will rebel against it. Your task is to give without seeming to offer. Do this and you will be redeemed in the eyes of Allah; fail and you have chosen your own judgment.  
  
"Know this however, in my eyes your sins against Trowa will never be forgiven, and my voice will rise up above all others on your judgment to condemn you. Do you understand, Habsaba, chosen Leader of the Maguanacs? Do you understand what task has been set before you, the enormity of it all?"  
  
There was no pause for contemplation, with a shake of his head, Habsaba acknowledged he understood. With forceful gentleness, Quatre released his grip and sank back against Rashid's chest. "Keep silent on the cause, now is not the time for disclosure. The Teachers will demand answers but you now have Allah's command, do not think to defy Him again, Habsaba." A violent shake of his head was all Habsaba was capable of, before he sank to his knees before Quatre.  
  
And then, with a blink of his eyes, Quatre looked up from Habsaba's fallen figure to the face of his stunned Teacher. He didn't take in the deathly silence of the room, the awed and fearful continents of those who had just witnessed the words of Allah. Quatre knew none of this as his small hands fisted into Rashid's vest and his head moved to rest tiredly against a powerful shoulder. His voice was small when he spoke in perfect Universal, the fatigue finally overwhelming his sickly body. With a yawn he barely covered, he turned beseeching eyes on his Teacher.  
  
"Rashid, I'm sorry, but I'm really tired now." He didn't wait for an answer, trusting in Rashid to do what a Teacher must to care for his Recruit. With a sigh he closed his eyes to rest. As he felt Rashid move towards the bedroom Quatre called back in what he hoped was a loud enough voice. "Thank you, Duo. This is the best party I've ever been to."  
  
He was asleep before Rashid placed him on the bed. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
  
In the morning, Quatre was still too weak to walk to what was known as the Classroom; it didn't matter really though, because Rashid had planed to stay with him during the testing anyway.  
  
As Rashid carried Quatre into the room that looked so much like classrooms did on the vid, Quatre was instantly set at ease about the upcoming tests. Rashid had told him it was nothing to worry about, but Quatre wanted so very badly to do well, not for himself of course, he knew he was stupid, it didn't take his father's constant reminders about that fact either. No, he knew he was stupid because he had a secret, one he hoped wouldn't be called upon today.  
  
The man at the front of the Classroom was Auda, Quatre remembered him from yesterday, though for some reason, Auda was the last person Quatre remembered talking too before falling asleep. Rashid had asked him about that this morning, asked if Quatre remembered saying anything to Master Habsaba the night before. Quatre was greatly upset that he couldn't remember speaking with Master Habsaba, he owed the man so much for taking him away from his father and giving him to Rashid, he didn't think he'd ever be able to repay that kindness.  
  
With a smile Auda turned from Ralph and Trowa. "Morning Quatre. Did you sleep well last night?" Quatre sensed it, a strange emotion that settled over the occupants of the room as they waited for his answer. But he didn't know these people very well, none except for Rashid and Trowa, so he simply nodded his head and looked anywhere but Auda's face. As if by magnetism, he found himself looking at Trowa.  
  
For a moment their eyes met, and Quatre felt that strange feeling again in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly terrified that it was another food episode like in the hospital, Quatre quickly looked away and buried his head in Rashid's shoulder, willing his Teacher to make him feel better.  
  
"Good morning, Quatre."  
  
And then that twisting turning feeling was back full force in his stomach, and Quatre looked up to smile kindly at Trowa, before ducking back and praying for mercy, just this once. Trowa's voice was so soft, softer than even his, and the way Trowa said his name, like it was important, it just confused him more to think about it.  
  
Quatre was too caught up in his own stomach to notice that the adults in the room all fell silent when Trowa spoke to him.  
  
Rashid was the first to recover. "Auda, where would you like Quatre to sit?"  
  
"Oh! Right. You can just put him in that desk to your left, the one across the aisle from Trowa's." The man's voice was flustered for a moment but he quickly fell into what Quatre assumed was his teacher mode. "Right! Ok, morning to the both of you. Today you're going to be taking what are known as Aptitude Placement Tests or APT's. Trowa, I heard Heero telling you about them yesterday at the party and he was right, they're not designed to find out who's stupid or smart, only where you are right now so I can start you on a learning tract, fancy words for how I'm going to teach you.  
  
"First, Ralph, Rashid, I don't mind if you both stay during the testing, in fact it might be better that way, but you'll both have to stay in the back of the room."  
  
It was fast, a flash of worry that Rashid must have seen because two large warm hands found their way to gently press against Quatre's cheeks. "You will do fine, Quatre. I will be right behind you the entire time. Do your best, that is all I ask of you." He didn't trust his voice, the idea of being even three steps away from Rashid when he couldn't even move on his own was terrifying. But Rashid had promised him that he'd be right behind him, so Quatre had faith; which was the only thing he had right now anyway.  
  
"Ok, second, have either one of you had any type of formal schooling? By that I mean have either one of you had either a classroom experience or maybe private tutors?" The first part of the question was directed at Trowa, the second at himself, there was no mistaking it. He knew that most children born into the type of wealth he had been should have received private tutoring in all forms of subjects. But his father hadn't believed in wasting the money until he was sure Quatre could be cured, and when the reprogrammer had finally given up, there wasn't a point.  
  
Eyes downcast in shame, Quatre didn't dare look up at Auda. It wasn't that he was prideful, after the life he'd been forced to lead pride wasn't an issue, but it meant that he was stupid, it meant that his secret might come out, and he refused to let Rashid see it unless there was no other alternative.  
  
There was a lengthy pause, and in desperation, Quatre hazarded a look in Trowa's direction--and then froze. Trowa's head was down too.  
  
Auda cleared his throat. "There's nothing wrong with not having a formal education. I only had three years of it before my family put me into reprogramming--"  
  
Instantly, Quatre's head shot up to stare at the man before him. Eyes wide with fear, and.not hope, hope would be cruel.but a kinship with someone, someone who understood what he'd been through. Quatre didn't see Trowa's head come up as well, his eyes going immediately to Quatre.  
  
Auda gave a sad smile. "Yeah, that's right Quatre. I was in reprogramming for almost a year. It's not something I generally talk about, and I'm sure you understand why, but if you ever need someone to talk to about what happened, well, that's what I'm here for."  
  
If it was anything like what he'd been through, Quatre understood it wasn't something anyone would want to talk about. But the offer had been spoken kindly, and Quatre found himself trusting the man to his word--Auda would make himself available should Quatre need someone to talk with. It was kind of him and something about that hurt.  
  
He nodded mutely.  
  
"Right, well, like I was saying, no harm in no education, that's one of the reasons you're here after all. Here's how this works. Before the both of you is a computer monitor. When the testing begins, the monitor with display the questions. Just touch the box on the screen that has the answer to the question. Each question will have five answers, A-D are actually answers to choose from while E is 'I don't know'. Don't be afraid to choose E, missing one answer doesn't mean anything.  
  
"There are two hundred questions on the first part of the test, which is the verbal component. This will test your skills in verbal communication, along with science, history, and a few other odds and ends. We'll move on after you're both finished. The questions get harder as you go, but don't worry about that. Try to answer each question as well as you can, points are given for the closest answer as well as the correct one. Do either of you have any questions?"  
  
It seemed pretty straightforward to him, but he glanced at Trowa to see if he'd missed some obvious question. But Trowa was staring at the screen, and Quatre quickly turned back to his own monitor.  
  
"Ok, you may begin as soon as the first question appears on your screen." With that Auda sat down and the screen before Quatre jumped to life, displaying in vivid color the first question.  
  
What color is displayed in the box below?  
  
Red  
  
Yellow  
  
Green  
  
Blue  
  
I Don't Know  
  
The color was Yellow, Quatre touched the second box.  
  
What shape is displayed below?  
  
Circle  
  
Triangle  
  
Square  
  
Rectangle  
  
I Don't Know  
  
It was a circle, Quatre touched the first box.  
  
Which of the following objects is larger?  
  
Cat  
  
Tree  
  
Ant  
  
Mountain  
  
I Don't Know  
  
What a silly question, Quatre pushed the forth box.  
  
What sound does--  
  
"Trowa, do you want me to repeat the instructions?" Auda's voice cut through the silence, and Quatre quickly turned his attention to his friend.  
  
Trowa sat with his hands in his lap, his eyes looking at Auda with cool indifference. With a shake of his head Trowa spoke. "No. I understood the directions."  
  
There should have been a moment of confusion, a few more questions directed at Trowa to discover the problem. But it seemed Auda was used to this kind of response--no other questions needed except for one.  
  
"Trowa, do you know how to read?"  
  
Trowa's voice held no shame.  
  
"No."  
  
Instinctively, Quatre knew there should be tension, but it wasn't there. Nothing, but Quatre felt it, he sensed it because it was so much like how he himself felt, that need to be better than he was, not for himself, but for his Teacher--Trowa to Ralph.  
  
Quatre's words cut through Auda's voice. "I could read you the questions if you want me to, Trowa."  
  
Large emerald eyes dropped into ocean depths, and Quatre wondered at the quickening of his heart. But nothing could deny the shift, the way Trowa's eyes moved from that indifferent look of ice to that gaze of warmth. A small smile appeared on Trowa's lips, and Quatre found himself answering it in kind.  
  
"Thank you, Quatre."  
  
"You don't have to thank me; I know you'd do the same for me."  
  
There was a startled look then, as if Trowa hadn't considered that. Then, with another warm smile Trowa very softly nodded his head.  
  
"Yes, yes I would."  
  
Auda cleared his throat and broke the spell. "That's very kind of you, Quatre, but we'll just have you both take the test with the computer reading the words. I'm going to restart the test, the words will still be on the screen, so Quatre, if you want to move ahead that's fine. Otherwise, the computer will read through each question, and Trowa, if you need it to repeat the question, just hit the button that flashes at the bottom of the screen. Ok, let's take the test!"  
  
An hour and a half later, Quatre answer the last question prompted by the computerized voice before folding his hands neatly in his lap. Taking a deep breath, he turned to glance behind him--he hadn't looked at Rashid once throughout the entire test. His Teacher smiled back at him kindly, and Quatre felt his confidence boost before hearing the beep of the test's completion and turned to look at Trowa.  
  
Quatre watched as Trowa closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, nodded to himself, and then turned to look back at Ralph. Then, as if they were caught in the same groove, he turned to look at Quatre and offered a weak smile. Quatre returned the gesture just as Auda stood up.  
  
"Ok, while the two of you take the last part of the test, the computer will grade this one. This is the mathematics portion of the APT. Don't be intimidated by it, it's just math. Do your best and remember that points get awarded for close answers as well as correct ones. You may both begin as soon as the questions appear."  
  
It was as if his heart had stopped dead in his chest. Quatre felt the cold fear travel down his back as the sweats of terror trickled down his back. Not this. Not his secret. Oh please Allah, be merciful, not this, not in front of Rashid.  
  
The first question appeared, and Quatre heard the mechanical voice of the computer as if through layers of cotton and the ringing in his ears.  
  
"1+1=?  
  
1  
  
2  
  
4  
  
11  
  
I Don't Know"  
  
The shaking started somewhere during the computer's dialogue, somewhere between the first box and the last. His mind fumbled through everything he'd ever read, trying to determine the answer. Oh God, this couldn't happen, he couldn't be found out so soon! Please, not in front of Rashid.not in front of Trowa.  
  
Quatre pushed the repeat button at the bottom of the screen.  
  
"1+1=?  
  
1  
  
2  
  
4  
  
11  
  
I Don't Know"  
  
Ok, it's just like reading. That.first mark.the straight vertical line, that must be a one. Ok, now the cross shape, that must be the plus part. The computer said one twice, and there are only two symbols that are identical, so the straight line has to be the one. Next is the two horizontal lines, the computer said equals. Alright, plus means together, equals means total. So it must be one together with one totals.  
  
With shaking fingers and his heart beating wildly, Quatre selected the second to the last box.  
  
He breathed out a sigh of relief when the question disappeared, only to panic again when it was replaced by another.  
  
"2+3=?"  
  
2  
  
5  
  
6  
  
23  
  
I Don't Know"  
  
Ok, ok, Quatre, you can do this, it's just like teaching yourself to read. Ok, the first symbol is two, then there's the plus again, that must be the three, and finally the equals again. Two together with three totals.  
  
Quatre selected the second to the bottom answer again.  
  
Then, just as before, the question disappeared only to be replaced by another, and Quatre felt his heart struggle not to explode in his chest.  
  
"5-2=?  
  
3  
  
1  
  
4  
  
25  
  
I Don't Know"  
  
Oh God, this wasn't like the others! Where was the cross? The together symbol?! He couldn't do this! Rashid would find out just how stupid he really was! NO! What if Rashid didn't want a stupid Recruit?! What if Rashid didn't want to take the time to helping someone as stupid as he was?! What if Maguanacs had to at least pass the math part of the test before they were allowed to stay?! What if he didn't pass and they made him leave, go back to his father?! NO! That can't happen!  
  
He didn't know he was sobbing, didn't know he'd made a sound until he sense the presence of someone close by him. Startled at Auda's sudden appearance by him, Quatre recoiled, drawing his hands to his chest to defend himself. The silent tears still tracking down his cheeks.  
  
"Quatre, it's alright. Math can be hard for a lot of people. All you have to do is your best. If you don't know--"  
  
If he didn't know.NO! He had to know the answers--all of them! He wouldn't be sent away, he couldn't be! He'd die if they sent him back!  
  
The panic and desperation seeped into his eyes, but Quatre didn't care. With a desperate lunge, he slammed his finger onto the computer monitor, not caring what it hit.  
  
There are only five answers, only five, and none of them said that the answer wasn't there. Then there's the 'I Don't Know' that's not an answer, only an admission of incompetence. There are only four potential answers, only four, by luck alone a person should get one out of four right! He would pass the test, he would stay, they couldn't make him go, he wouldn't! He'd die if they sent him back.  
  
Auda glanced at the screen before standing and going back to his desk. It was when Auda moved that Quatre saw Trowa's face. The boy was quiet, but his face was written in understanding and pain. Understanding of what was happening, pain because he knew what it was like to disappoint his Teacher. Quatre turned away from the sight.  
  
Then Auda was back, in his hand six bright yellow hexagon flat blocks. Carefully, he laid each one down on top of Quatre's desk until they formed two columns and three rows. When Quatre looked up at him, Auda smiled.  
  
"Quatre, how many blocks are here? Can you tell me that?"  
  
Silently, Quatre turned back to the blocks and counted the way his sisters had taught him a long time ago, back when they still cared.  
  
One.  
  
Two.  
  
Three.  
  
Four.  
  
Five.  
  
Six.  
  
"S-six?" A question, his voice's admission that he might not be right.  
  
"Very good, six. Now, how many are there?" Auda shifted four from the desk and back into his hand.  
  
Quatre counted.  
  
One.  
  
Two.  
  
"Two?"  
  
"Good. Now, if I add two to those two that you already have, like this. How many do you have now?"  
  
Again, he counted silently, each number in his head, assigning it to a block.  
  
One.  
  
Two.  
  
Three.  
  
Four.  
  
This time with more confidence. "Four."  
  
"Good job. Now, if I do this, how many do you have?" With one sweep, Auda removed all the blocks from the desk.  
  
Quatre blinked. "I don't have.any."  
  
"That's right, what number represents none?"  
  
Represents none? Quatre looked up, confusion in his eyes.  
  
And then, something profound seemed to dawn in Auda. Lifting his hand he picked up the pen like stylist used to convert strange lines into things the computer recognized as letters. With a quick circular movement, Auda drew an oval on the screen.  
  
"OK, Quatre, what number is that?"  
  
Number?! It must be a trick, Auda was trying to trick him! Anger welled up in Quatre; he was doing everything in his power to keep from being thrown out of the Maguanacs and this man he didn't even know was trying to trick him!  
  
Quatre's eyes were cold when they turned to Auda. "It's an oval."  
  
Auda paused, but the light didn't leave his eyes. "That's right, Quatre, it is an oval, but it represents a number. What number does it represent? I'll give you a hint, it's the same number that represents how many blocks are on your desk."  
  
But there weren't any blocks on his desk! What was going on!?  
  
Suddenly, Auda reached for the stylist again, this time drawing a vertical line. "How about this number Quatre, do you know what number this represents?"  
  
The vertical line, it was the same from the first question.  
  
"One?"  
  
"How about this number?"  
  
From the second question.  
  
"Two?"  
  
"And this number?"  
  
"Three?"  
  
"How about this number, Quatre?"  
  
Two vertical lines, the one on the left half the length of the one on the right, then a horizontal line that touched the bottom of the short vertical line and crossed the long one. He'd seen it before, but had no idea what it was.  
  
This was it. Auda was going to tell Rashid he was un-teachable, that nothing would ever make Quatre smart, that it was a waste of time to try. Rashid would send him back then, what was the point keeping around an idiotic boy who couldn't even do math or walk, who was sick, carrying some strange disease, and was a damaged empath. No, this couldn't happen!  
  
"Quatre's it's ok not to know the--"  
  
"NO!" With a violent push, Quatre tried to stand, to get away from the man before him, the one that had exposed him for the worthless boy his father had always claimed him to be. But his strength was far from returned, and with a dramatic shift, he crashed onto the dark blue carpeting.  
  
"Quatre!" Funny, through all the people calling his name he only heard Trowa's voice. Thin and yet battle worn fingers went to his arm and upper back, stabilizing him. A brush of coarse hair as the tip of a set of bangs brushed against his cheek. Trowa had pushed Auda out of the way, Trowa was the one supporting him.  
  
Through his sobs, the words fell as Quatre felt the others closing in on him.  
  
".so-sorry.so sor-rry. St-stupid, stupid.s-sorry."  
  
"You are not stupid, Quatre!" That was Rashid's voice, and instinctively, Quatre eased away from Trowa until Rashid caught him up into his arms and deposited him into the giant's wide lap. One large hand stroked his hair, while the other lifted Quatre's hand and held it against Rashid's chest, over his heart. "You are not stupid, Quatre. None of this is your fault. Your father should have taught you these things, should have told you again and again how smart and caring you are. But the past cannot be undo, and so you will have to learn now, but that does not make you stupid! Untaught, perhaps, but not stupid. You are bright and energetic about learning, I have seen that in the way you look at the world around you. This is only temporary, Quatre, you will see, you are not stupid, but extremely smart."  
  
His hand against Rashid's heart told him that his Teacher spoke the truth, at least the truth he knew. But the others might still make him leave, they might send him away as a lost cause. He had to know, had to find out.  
  
In his desperation, Quatre's question came out as a plea for sanctuary. "Please don't let them send me away, Rashid! Please! I'll get smarter, I promise! I promise! Please don't send me back! Please don't send me back to my father! Please, Rashid! Please!"  
  
Rashid's shock never made it through to Quatre, but Trowa's anger did.  
  
"If you send him back, I'm leaving as well. I'll go with him!" Trowa's voice was stone cold, like Gundanium in unshielded space.  
  
But Trowa's voice was as warm as his hand against Quatre's face when he spoke next. "Don't worry, Quatre. I'll stay with you, no matter where you go. I won't let anyone hurt you, not ever again."  
  
Trowa's hand wasn't over his heart, but Quatre knew the words just spoken were more truth and promise than any he'd ever heard in his life, not from his father and not even from Rashid. Trowa would protect him and stay with him, no matter what.no matter what.  
  
"Quatre, neither myself nor anyone else would ever send you away." Rashid's voice, tempered with disbelief and the absolute need to make Quatre understand. "You are one of us, Quatre, a Maguanac, and we do not abandon our own. The test you took was designed to tell Auda how much you knew, not whether or not you were smart or stupid. It is not a measuring tool to decide if I keep you or send you back, you are here, and here you will stay. Do not be afraid, your membership as a Maguanac is for life, not even death will separate you from us. No one will ever send you back to your father, Quatre, you are safe here to truly be who you are."  
  
It was too perfect, too exact. But Quatre wanted to believe, desperately wanted to believe that he was safe, that Rashid would teach him, that he'd grow smarter, that Trowa would protect him always. It was to desperately perfect, and Quatre found he didn't dare consider the alternative.  
  
With a weak nod and a silent sob, he crumpled against Rashid's chest, both of his hands pressing against his heart, his breathing shallow at best. He was tired, and still hurting, still frightened by the possibilities of what could happen to him. But he was weak here, nothing like before, and so he'd allow himself to depend on others until he was stronger, he had no choice in the matter.  
  
"Trowa." Rashid's voice was calming and strong. "I am proud to hear that you would protect Quatre, both as his Teacher and as your General; it is a testament to how well Ralph is teaching you that you feel this way." Quatre didn't have to look, he felt the happiness Trowa felt at the complement Ralph received. "We would never send Quatre back though, just as we will never send you back either. The both of you are Maguanacs now and forever; and even in death it is how you will be remembered. Thank you for being willing to protect Quatre, but Trowa, let us, Ralph and the rest of us, protect you for a little while now. You deserve a little protection after all you have lived through."  
  
It hurt Quatre's heart the pain he felt from Trowa then. But it passed quickly, that cold shield of nothingness falling where there had once been the sound of a little boy crying for mercy. It startled Quatre into raising his eyes to Trowa's.  
  
And like him, Trowa was wrapped tightly in the arms of his Teacher, the lengthy boy resting haphazardly in Ralph's lap. But while Trowa's eyes gave nothing away as they stared back into his own, Quatre knew below the shields, Trowa was in need of this reassurance just as much as he was.  
  
With a smile, Quatre lifted his hand out to Trowa, and wasn't at all surprised when the other boy took it. "I'm an empath." Puzzled, Trowa nodded his agreement--everyone knew now. "I know when people are lying and telling the truth, sometimes its hard for me, I don't.don't know how to read it all yet. But I know what Rashid said was true.all of it. It's scary, I'm scared all the time, but.I think, I don't have to be anymore. You don't have to be scared either, Trowa. I can tell, Ralph feels the same way as Rashid. I.I think we're safe now." The last sentence was a spoken revelation even to Quatre, and with a start he realize it was true. Turning back to Rashid, Quatre buried his head against his Teacher's neck, and slowly let the truth fall into place around him.  
  
* * *  
  
"It's incredible actually. I'd almost think they rigged the test or something. It's just.well, it's nearly impossible how their scores came out." Auda was pacing the room, his disbelief clearly written in every gesture he made.  
  
"Perhaps, Auda, you could explain a bit better than that." Rashid had been waiting patiently for nearly five hours. After Quatre's episode, both he and Trowa had settled back into the test. Once the math was completed, the written part came, and Rashid was extremely grateful that Quatre had learned with the math that it was alright to fail. Still it had been horrifying to watch his youngest Recruit struggle to tell Auda that he couldn't even write his name. That while he could read--how well Rashid was about to find out--he couldn't write a single word, or even spell the things he knew how to read. Rashid hadn't thought it was possible, but as Auda had displayed letter after letter, only to discover that Quatre had no idea what the symbol stood for, Rashid had been forced into the truth of the matter.  
  
"Quatre, what does this say?" By this time Quatre had been agitated, his failures weighing heavily on him. Rashid could tell this easily, no empathic abilities required, it was obvious by the way the boy had continued to turn to look at him, reaffirming that Rashid would not abandon him.  
  
"Cat."  
  
"Good, now spell 'cat'." The word had been removed from the screen, and Quatre had again glanced behind him.  
  
Head downcast in shame, Quatre had spoken a reality Rashid had been forced to realize. "I-I can't."  
  
"How about now, Quatre, can you spell it by looking at it?" The letters were back on the screen, and Rashid could see the determination in Quatre not to fail, ebb away as even his Recruit realized the truth.  
  
".no."  
  
But Auda had been undeterred. "Quatre can you tell me what letter this is?"  
  
Rashid knew it had been an 'A', Quatre had not.  
  
A quick glance behind, one more desperate search to make sure the promise still stood.  
  
".no."  
  
They'd gone through every letter, and while Trowa had been able to recite the alphabet and knew the letters on sight, Quatre had not. The small blond had been able to recite a portion of the alphabet song, something Rashid assumed Quatre remembered from his childhood before the gene test. But the boy had no understanding of the symbols that represented letters, and numbers beyond one, two, and three were just as much a foreign language.  
  
Trowa had been able to sign his name, Quatre had not. Trowa had been able to spell some small words, and some unsettling words like 'Gundanium' and 'bullet', but it all escaped Quatre.  
  
That had been five hours ago, and now, while Quatre and Trowa waited in the Classroom, he, Ralph, and Auda had moved into another to learn the boys' placements.  
  
"Rashid, it's like this: Trowa can't read, Quatre can't do math. Trowa can spell a little, but Quatre can't even recognize the symbols for letters or numbers. Quatre also can't write a thing. So you'd think Quatre would have barely scored on the verbal, same for Trowa, but that's not what happened!" Standing from his desk, Auda began to pace again.  
  
"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone getting test scores this high before! Especially after what they've been through, no schooling whatsoever. But Quatre's only fifteen, a self taught reader, and he scored 196 out of 200! Those are questions ranging from kindergarten to college level fourth year! And the questions he missed were the only four that mentioned numbers--which we now know he can't read. Do you understand what that means? Quatre's smart, not just smart, he's brilliant! Genius level even! Everything he knows he's taught himself, everything. As long as I kept math and written questions off his test, I could probably hand him his college degree in any subject he wanted! Literature, science, history, it doesn't matter, he knew it all! Allah in heaven, the math questions he missed came from the fifth year level in basic! I don't know if there's anything in these subjects that I could teach him, he's smarter than I am!  
  
"And Trowa! For a boy of seventeen, with no education--hell he couldn't even read the questions, he still scored a 102! Let me put it to you both this way, at seventeen, provided that he was in eleventh year basic, he still shouldn't have been able to top 110--as the top student in his class! I don't know how he got so smart, I have no idea, but he's right where he should be had he attended classes from day one! But that's just his verbal! I-I just can't explain his math.  
  
"Trowa, the Trowa that by all rights should know nothing is a mathematical genius! There are 200 questions on the test, and he got every single one of them right! He didn't miss one! Besides the fact that he'd need to write a thesis paper, I could give him the college exam test today and hand him his diploma in advanced mathematics and calculus tomorrow! It's impossible really, I don't know how.there just isn't any way!"  
  
"When I tested, Heero, Duo and Wufei five years ago, I thought I'd seen the smartest Recruits ever, what with scores almost six levels beyond where they should have been, but this, Trowa and Quatre, they're not just smart, they're brilliant! But the way it broke down, that strange connection they have together that everyone's talking about.Quatre good in the verbal, Trowa good in the math, and neither one of the them being able to write or spell, it's just.eerie."  
  
Mouths open in shock, Rashid and Ralph both had to agree.  
  
* * *  
  
"So I'm not stupid?" He and Trowa had been quietly waiting in the Classroom for their fates. They'd both been so nervous, they hadn't even talked to each other.  
  
"You would never have been stupid, Quatre. But, I'd like to know how you learned to read, and how you studied so much." Auda had come in five minutes ago, and given both Trowa and himself an explanation of their scores. Both boys had been shocked.  
  
Quatre shrugged slightly. "The computer could read the words to me, but it took too long, so I started watching and listening. I-I just stared doing it. And.there wasn't much else to do on the satellite." He felt Rashid tighten his grip on his shoulder.  
  
Auda nodded before turning to Trowa. "How about you, Trowa, how did you study math?"  
  
Trowa seemed to consider not answering for a moment. His voice was dead when he spoke. "You had to know how many bullets you had left, and how many the other side did as well. Not knowing would get you killed. Math wasn't hard. I traded.things.for books. That's all."  
  
But Quatre knew that wasn't all, he'd felt it in the word 'things' the pain, the horror, the torment. It was agony at best, and Quatre quickly pulled Rashid's hand from his should to hold against his chest for comfort.  
  
Auda too, must have sensed it, the subject was dropped.  
  
"Well, the both of you are surprisingly strong in the other's weakness. Since you're both new Recruits, I think it would be a good idea for the two of you to study together; you can help each other learn that way. I gave Ralph and Rashid datapads with what you'll both need for classes. You can get all your supplies on the shop computer, which will probably take a few days. In the mean time, the both of you will come to the Classroom for three hours out of everyday and attend classes with me. Actually, for the most part, you'll be attending classes with Heero, Duo, and Wufei as well, since in a lot of ways you both are at their levels. We'll talk more about that tomorrow when I see you for class. In the mean time, I've given you both a small assignment--your Teachers have them. Don't worry, it won't take too much time." And then, with a wink, they were sent home.  
  
Back at the apartment, Quatre elected to sit at the table to copy the alphabet onto a datapad with a stylist--his homework for the night--while Abdule cooked.  
  
"So how'd you do?" Rashid had gone to see Master Habsaba soon after their return.  
  
"I think I did ok. Auda said I was going to be taking some courses for college credit in literature and history. That's good right?" He'd asked because Abdule had dropped the potato cake he was flipping.  
  
"College credit?"  
  
"Yeah, that's what he said. But I'm still an idiot, no matter what Rashid said. I don't know how to write, I can't spell, and I still don't understand how two vertical lines and one horizontal can mean four. I didn't get a single one right on the math part." His said the last part with his head down, completely missing Abdule's stunned expression.  
  
"Wait. You're going to be taking college level classes? And you can't.write? Is that why you're copying the alphabet at the dinner table?" Dejectedly he nodded. "That's incredible!"  
  
Stunned, Quatre looked up. "What?"  
  
"Quatre, do you know how hard it is to impress Auda?! That guy's brilliant, a genius actually! If he put you into college courses, you better believe you're one smart cookie. What were your scores anyway?"  
  
Feeling slightly more confident, Quatre answered. "I got a 196 on the verbal and.nothing on the math, I couldn't even answer the first question right."  
  
But Abdule didn't seem to notice the shortcomings. "196 on the verbal. Oh my God! Quatre, what year did the colonies pass Article eighty-six of the Colonial Constitution?"  
  
"139 AC."  
  
"If you have two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, what element do you have?"  
  
"Water."  
  
"Who wrote, Of Mice and Men?"  
  
"John Steinbeck."  
  
Abdule stood stunned and staring at Quatre for a long time, long enough for Quatre to feel very worried.  
  
"Abdule, do you want me to get one wrong?"  
  
Suddenly his brother smiled. "No, Quatre, I don't want you to get one wrong. That's incredible, how much you know. You'll have to tell me sometime how you learned all that. But I think now, you should finish your homework, and eat, then how's about you show me how to tune that violin again, I keep forgetting."  
  
Quatre smiled. "OK." 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19  
  
With more trepidation then Quatre had ever experienced in his entire life, he made is way down the hallway towards the camps. Rashid and Abdule had decided to take a nap, and Quatre hadn't had the heart to wake them up to take him for his daily dose of UVB rays.  
  
The passage seemed a lot colder to Quatre without Rashid or Abdule by his side. The overhead lights seemed to be dimmer than usually, and the grating under his sandals echoed in the stillness of the metal passageway.  
  
He carried a datapad in one hand, and a protein shake in his other. He'd made the shake himself, not wanting to bother Abdule when the timer went off for his next one. He was finally getting the hang of eating solid foods again, but Wufei had made him promise to keep drinking four shakes a day, and Quatre didn't dare disobey.  
  
Life was starting to settle down for him now. Today had been his fifth day to go to the Classroom, and he was really enjoying his lessons, even the homework was fun to him. Duo kept making faces about the homework saying it was cutting into his afterglow time, but Quatre didn't understand what he was talking about.  
  
He was also having a great deal of fun with the other Recruits. He found Duo to be very entertaining, and while he didn't always understand the American's jokes, he smiled anyway when everyone else did.  
  
Heero was different, but the same. Quatre found himself trusting in Heero's strength. The older boy was still working with Quatre daily on his muscle tone. He was now able to lift ten pounds with each arm, and when he'd finally done it, he'd been so excited he'd even smiled at Heero who'd returned the gesture.  
  
Quatre wasn't overly fond of showing his emotions in front of others. Around Rashid and Abdule was one thing, maybe even Trowa, but the rest.he didn't dare, just in case Rashid had been wrong. But Quatre was finding it harder and harder, especially around the other Recruits, to remember that.  
  
He went to see Wufei every other day for a check-up, but usually he saw the Chinese youth in his literature class. Wufei was very well read, and Quatre was mustering up the courage to ask the doctor about some of things he'd read in the past.  
  
And Trowa.Trowa was a different story all together. He and Trowa were in a separate class from the others for half the day. In that class Auda used them to help each other in their weak points. For Trowa it was easy, he understood the numbers and how they worked together, but Auda had to help when Quatre tried to teach Trowa to read. Auda had told him he was a sight reader, meaning he saw a word and knew what it was by memory, but because he didn't know how to sound a word out it was getting harder and harder to help Trowa. Quatre was actually learning more about reading by listening to Auda teach Trowa anyway, so half way through the last lesson, he'd simply sat quietly and listened carefully to Auda explain what the vowels sounded like. It was all very fascinating to Quatre, and it seemed, Trowa as well.  
  
Quatre's thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he found himself in front of the metal door to the camps. Last time he'd stood here all alone had been over a month before, and so much had happened since then.  
  
With a slight shift of his body, Quatre slid down the wall across from the door to be seated on the floor. His thoughts turned suddenly introspective as he tried to assimilate everything that had happened to him over the last month.  
  
It dawned on him, as his thoughts began to flow and form pictures, that he hadn't actually thought about his new life overly much in detail since arriving. The first thing he noticed was that his brain felt heavy, weighted down with so much that it threatened to shut down. He'd been coasting he realized, just trying to survive rather than analyze anything that had happened to him.  
  
Shifting to a more comfortable position, Quatre thought back to his impressions of the how this had all started. He remembered his father's unscheduled arrival to his satellite.  
  
* * *  
  
"Get up boy!" A sound kick landed against Quatre's ribs in the darkness. Instinctively, the small blond curled in on himself even more, desperately trying to protect his body while complying with the order. Strong arms had hauled him up and pushed him against the wall of the small space Quatre called home. "Disgusting!" Those rough hands pushed at him, but with nowhere to go but the wall, Quatre felt his head hit the metal and his vision threatened to go black.  
  
"Move!" One hand returned, wrapping itself around his neck and propelling him towards the entrance of his shelter. The satellite didn't have a climate control, and it didn't have any shields either. This meant that when it passed by the sun, the exterior shell absorbed the heat, making the temperature unbearably hot; likewise, when the satellite was orbiting behind the shadow of Earth, the cold threatened to burn his toes off. The shelter was the only section of the satellite that had a heating and cooling unit. He'd been lucky enough to find it not long after arriving.  
  
This was a day in the sun's path, and Quatre felt the sweat begin to drip down his neck the moment he stepped from the shelter. He heard his father curse behind him, and Quatre couldn't help but feel a brief sense of satisfaction before he forcefully threw that thought away--how was Allah ever to forgive him if he condemned his own father for doing Allah's bidding?  
  
The Rubar burned lines across the soles of Quatre's bare feet, but he was used to it, the pads of skin long since crusted over. There was no relief from the pain in his feet, no way to stop the constant burning, and Quatre closed his eyes and walked faster rather than remember what the Reprogrammer had done to those very feet.  
  
Bare and sterile, the satellite was anything from cozy, and as Quatre walked in the direction his father pushed him, he found himself passing his humble attempts to make it more like home. To the left was a plastic tarp he'd found coving some old crates not too long ago. There were cans of marking paint still left over from the construction effort, and Quatre had gathered those not long after finding the tarp. Now, the twenty-foot sheet of plastic hung against one of the outer walls and on its surface was a smattering of paint. He'd been trying to paint a mountain, but since there wasn't any blue paint on the satellite, it was a sickly orange color with green and purple accents.  
  
His father scoffed at it as they passed. "Pathetic. It's a waste of supplies to even keep you alive, boy. You can't even managed to do a simple drawing. Absolutely ridiculous!"  
  
Then suddenly his father's cruel laughter sunk into Quatre like stones into the sea. It was a cold sound, one that Quatre had never quite heard before, but the undertone was clear, and Quatre found his arms wrap about his waist against the pain he knew was coming with that sound.  
  
"Not that I have to worry about that much longer. You've meddled in my affairs long enough. I coddled your mother by letting her birth you herself, and you killed her. Ripped your way fright from her body. No, you've caused enough damage for one lifetime." He didn't know what his father was getting at, but at the moment he didn't care.  
  
His mother. He knew she'd been a kind woman, loving. He vaguely remembered an impossible memory, the muffled voice of his mother speaking to him through her womb. He'd once told his sister about the dream, but she'd called him a liar and slapped him for his efforts. Silence, he'd learned, was a much better virtue.  
  
But his mother had not been silent. As a boy he remembered seeing pictures of her, dancing with his father, playing with his sisters. She'd been beautiful, long silver blond hair that hung in a mass of waves down half her back. Her eyes had been a sparkling blue so intense they didn't seem human. And her smile, perfect teeth and full lips, she could have stopped a room with her smile alone.  
  
She's been perfect, absolutely perfect--until he'd come. He'd been the seed of evil placed in her garden of Eden. As he'd grown, he'd ripped the beauty and strength from the vivacious woman, until she'd been nothing but a shell to harbor his body.  
  
Before the gene test, his sisters had never talked about his mother, preferring instead to talk around her, even when Quatre had asked a direct question. But once the testing had proved his deformity, they hadn't kept quiet, instead, reminding him at every token moment what he'd done.  
  
"Don't you dare cry out when I hit you, you ungrateful brat! You're the cause of your own suffering! If mother hadn't wanted a child so badly, if you hadn't sucked all the life out of her, none of this would be happening!"  
  
"You horrible, horrible child! You kill your own mother and then come to me for comfort. Get out! Get out before I ignore father and ruin something other than those disgusting feet!"  
  
"It's too bad you had to kill your mother, Quatre. If she was alive, I bet father would have come up with an alternative to your.little problem. But alas, you're a murderer, and such unholy acts must be punished, you know. You really are an evil child, Quatre Winner."  
  
"Get up there!" With a shove, Quatre found himself back on the satellite, the memories fading from him but not the pain. He was at the ramp leading up to his father's ship. It was the small shuttle, the one his father used when he thought people were watching his movements too closely. But the shuttle was cool inside and Quatre found at the moment he didn't really care what was going on as long as his feet could feel some relief.  
  
Inside, his father shoved him into a chair and closed the hatch door. Perplexed, he allowed himself a moment of hope that he was finally getting to go home, before he remembered the cruel sound of his father's voice, and that nagging little ability of his that told him he was never going to go home with this man.  
  
His father pulled out a bag that lay tucked in one of the compartments and threw it at him. "Get ready! There's a shower through there, I trust you still know how to properly clean yourself, though from your appearance that may be questionable. Put the clothes on, and don't you dare get anything on them! Don't give me an excuse to kill you now, boy!" With this, his father moved into the cockpit and Quatre obeyed without thought and went to the bathroom.  
  
It was small, but much better than the basin and pitcher he had back at the shelter. The shelter. It was as close to home as he understood it, but now, if his father's feelings were right, he was never going to see it again. Quatre sighed as he turned on the water of the bath. So be it then he thought, he didn't deserve anything better. At least it would be over soon, Allah would cast him down, and he could finally stop being a burden to his father. That and--as he slipped into the water--he was tired, so very tired of it, all of it. He just wanted to rest.  
  
The water had to be changed three times before he was sufficiently clean. Slowly he dried off, savoring the feeling of the towel against his skin. Dry, he opened the bag he'd been given and pulled out the contents. There was a black suit, a pair of undergarments including socks, a dark red tie, and a pair of black gleaming shoes. It was the socks that almost made Quatre start to cry. The open wounds on his feet would surly protest the coarse fabric and he silently contemplated not putting them on. But the pain was so much better than feeling the hate and anger roll off his father when he disobeyed; grimacing and choking back a sob, Quatre pulled the socks on.  
  
Nothing of the outfit fit him. The pants were too big at the waist, and the jacket much too tight. The shirt buttoned fine against his slight form, but the arms were so tight he could barely move. And the shoes, Allah in heaven, they reshaped and pinched, until Quatre thought every blister, every open sore, must be digging it's way back up into his skin, festering until he cut off his own feet in agony. But he didn't dare cry out at the first step he took, he didn't dare call for help as he literally felt the fluid filled sack on his left foot burst from the sock and shoe, he didn't dare sob as the wool socks ground into his now bleeding flesh. No, he didn't have any right to seek mercy, he was an evil child.  
  
He spent the rest of the twenty-four hour trip in one of the back chairs, trying desperately to keep his feet off the floor to alleviate the pressure. Quatre had been asleep when the shuttle touched down on what he later found out was the Maguanac station. His father had roughly jerked him awake.  
  
"Get up! Embarrass me, and I'll beat you until your flesh falls off. Now get up!"  
  
The night had only worsened the pain in his feet, but Quatre moved silently, following quietly behind his father as the man smiled brightly and shook hands with fellow businessmen. Not once did, Raberba Winner introduce the boy straggling behind him as his son, and while many of the people had seemed curious, none had questioned Master Winner.  
  
As they passed through the doors, a console issued them a number, and his father took it before moving against one of the long corridor walls. His father sat down, Quatre stood, and together they waited for Quatre's turn.  
  
He could just barely remember the last time he'd been here. That time too they'd done the same thing, only his father had been more cordial, less violently taunt. Back then, Quatre had been a burden, but not so openly despised. Last time they'd had to wait five days, this time it would only be two.  
  
In the first twelve hours, his father bought food from a vendor, Quatre watched him eat it. Twelve hours after that, his father lay asleep against the wall; Quatre still stood by his side. Twelve hours again, his father had disappeared with a business associate, and for the first time, Quatre sat down and fell asleep. Three hours later he was violently slapped awake. His father took his place against the wall, and Quatre stood, the pain in his feet beyond fire. Twelve hours later, they entered the great hall.  
  
Things happened quickly from there. He disobeyed his father, was beaten in front of witnesses, entered the ranks of the Maguanacs, acquired Rashid as his Teacher, and was discovered as an empath. Then he'd passed out.  
  
* * *  
  
Looking back on it, he'd wanted to die that day. Desperately, he'd wished to just drift off. He wasn't entirely sure he didn't want that anymore either. Rashid hadn't yet questioned him too much on his past, but Quatre could feel him getting more and more curious about it. There were times he noticed Rashid move to say something, only to change his mind and remain silent.  
  
Quatre wasn't sure what he'd say once Rashid finally asked him about his time before the camps. He supposed he'd lie, that he'd tell Rashid only what needed to be said before going silent. Rashid didn't need to know what Quatre had been through, no one needed to know. The humiliation, the desecration, the torture.no one needed to know about those things. He supposed he'd tell Rashid that his Reprogrammer had beaten him, tried to make him transcend the gene in every cell of his body. Quatre thought he'd have to explain where "evil child" came from, but that was an easy enough lie to fabricate. Rashid didn't have to know all the truths of Quatre's life--Quatre didn't even want to know the truths.  
  
It pained him a little to know that he could so easily agree to lie to his Teacher. But the alternative was so much worse; it would be better just to keep it simple, to keep the whole thing from ears that desperately wanted to hear and heal him. But Rashid would hear the real story and try to comfort him, to banish the images from his mind, no, that couldn't happen, he deserved those images.  
  
It wasn't that he believed that Allah hated him anymore; he believed Aisha's chapter completely now. No, it was more that Quatre knew exactly who he was, knew to those people outside this station he was below nothing. It was the pain he felt when he realized he couldn't hate his father, because as far as his father had known, he'd done the right thing, the noble thing. As impossible as it seemed to him now, his father had done so much more for him than could have been expected. Most people in Raberba Winner's position would have just killed their sons, but his father had tried--no matter how twisted that sounded--he'd tried to help Quatre overcome his genes. He'd been cruel and ruthless about it, but he'd tried, and no matter how much Quatre hated him for it, he couldn't actually hate his father at all.  
  
Shaking his head, Quatre thought of other things. He thought about the touching exercises he, Rashid and Abdule did every day. It was always the same, Quatre would lie on the bed and they would lightly touch him for as long as he could stand it. Since returning from the infirmary, Abdule had been forced to only touch his covered body parts, because for some reason he simply could not stand the touch of his brother. They'd tried it of course, again and again, they'd tried, but Quatre's emotions flew into turmoil whenever Abdule touched him. He knew it was hurting his brother, but he couldn't help it. It was as if all of Abdule's emotions flew right into his head at the simple contact, as if Quatre's shields crumbled only when he touched him. He didn't understand why, only that Abdule would smile kindly when Quatre backed away or cried out. Quatre knew that when he fled the room every night, when their emotions became too much for him to control and he ran as far away from them as he could while still being near--he knew that Rashid held Abdule, knew it was Rashid that comforted his brother.  
  
The fact remained however, that the time between the initial touch and when he fled was lengthening. He could now spend almost a half-hour with them before he couldn't stand it anymore. There had been one day actually, where he'd been able to stay with them for forty-five minutes, but he'd not been able to repeat that again.  
  
It was getting easier though, and Quatre was grateful for that, grateful and a little bit scared about what it would all mean. He'd spent his whole life thinking that he was morally evil, that this gene in his body made him unforgivable in the eyes of Allah. But now he knew that wasn't true, that in fact he wasn't evil at all, that he was truly blessed by Allah Himself. But what did that mean?  
  
Quatre bent his head, his face falling into his hands as he breathed deeply.  
  
He was a homosexual. There, he'd said it, at least in his head.  
  
He tried to say it out loud.he couldn't.  
  
He said it in his head again, it sounded weaker this time.  
  
Quatre drew in another deep breath. There wasn't any getting around it, he was a homosexual. But he didn't feel like one. He didn't feel like there was anything wrong with him in that sense. In fact, he didn't feel anything in terms of sex. What he knew about the act of sex he knew from his Reprogrammer and--NO! He wasn't going to think about that anymore!  
  
But still, he didn't see the men around him and feel.what was he supposed to feel? He didn't feel lightheaded, or sick to.his.stomach. Oh God!  
  
He'd felt sick around Wufei all the time! But wait! He'd actually been sick to his stomach, the same with Abdule. OK, so that didn't count, at least he didn't think so. When else had he felt sick to his stomach? Duo and Heero had been with Wufei when Rashid had carried his cramped body to the restroom in the infirmary, so none of them counted. That left only the other day in the Classroom.  
  
Trowa. It'd been Trowa who had made him feel as if something were alive in his stomach, crawling around to let him know it was there. But no, he didn't have.feelings for Trowa. Trowa was his friend, a good friend. Trowa didn't ask him to talk all the time, or try to touch him more than Quatre wanted to be touched.  
  
But was Trowa--Quatre cleared his throat and looked around to see if anyone was in the corridor with him--nice looking? Quatre didn't know. There were a lot of nice looking people in the ranks, but they weren't nice looking just because they were men, at least he didn't think so. Trowa's eyes were nice, but so were Duo's. Trowa's hair was very interesting to look at, but so was Wufei's in that severe ponytail. Trowa was lean and muscular, but Heero was too, and Quatre already knew he'd only gotten sick to his stomach around Heero because of the solid foods. So that meant that Quatre didn't think Trowa looked handsome, nope, instead, he must have actually been a little sick still the last time he saw Trowa, that would explain things.  
  
So that meant that he was homosexual, but didn't think men were.cute. Was that possible? Could he be attracted to men without being attracted to them? Oh, it made his head hurt to think about it!  
  
Shaking his head, Quatre moved his thoughts to another subject.  
  
Rashid. Quatre smiled. Rashid was so good to him. Patient and kind, his Teacher was quite literally the rock he'd held onto this last month. Rashid had been with him every step of the way, guiding him and making him feel safe and comfortable. When it was too hard for him to fall asleep at night, Rashid allowed him to place his hand onto his chest and be swallowed by the sleepiness Rashid projected for him. When he felt embarrassed because of his inability to touch skin to skin, it was Rashid that kissed his hair and brushed his bangs back before telling him not to worry, that he was doing just fine. It was Rashid that encouraged him to return to the violin, allowing Quatre to teach him a little more every night, even though Quatre could tell that Rashid wasn't exactly interested. It was Rashid that Quatre now gravitated to, going to him the moment the giant came home, and staying by his side long into the night. Rashid was more than a rock, he was like the father Quatre had always wished he'd had. Rashid was like air to him, something necessary for life to continue.  
  
Nodding his head at his internal thoughts Quatre stood. There was a lot on his mind, more than most days. Abandoned, then rescued, saved and now loved. It was a lot to assimilate, and Quatre reasoned it would take a lot more than just a few minutes outside the door to the camps.  
  
Squaring his shoulders, Quatre pressed in the passcode and stepped directly into Trowa. Startled, they both took large steps back, and Quatre noticed that Trowa's right hand moved automatically towards his hip in a grabbing motion before it dropped to his side.  
  
They stared at each other for a moment, both too stunned to say or do anything. Finally, Quatre broke the silence.  
  
"I-I thought I'd get some.sun." Was he blushing? No, it must be the heat, it was a lot warmer in the camps, as was evident from Trowa's lack of a shirt.  
  
Trowa tensed for a moment at the sound of his voice, and Quatre watched as the muscles of his abs and chest tightened before releasing.  
  
"Wufei mentioned that no one had seen you outside today. I offered to bring you down myself, I thought your Teacher might be too busy." Trowa's eyes were jumping back and forth over Quatre's face, and it was hard for the blond to keep up with them. It was almost as if Trowa were memorizing his features.  
  
"Rashid and Abdule are napping. I didn't want to wake them up. I-I.I thought I'd try to go to the camps myself today." Sheepishly he broke off, his face dropping from the intense stare of Trowa's searching eyes.  
  
"I did not mean to imply that you couldn't come on your own." There was defensiveness in Trowa's voice, and Quatre didn't like the way it sounded at all.  
  
He shook his head. "No, that's ok. I don't mind. It-it was nice of you to think of me."  
  
Quatre could tell by the startled expression on Trowa's face, that he hadn't meant to say his next words out loud.  
  
"I always think of you."  
  
They stared at each other for what seemed like eternity. Finally, with what appeared to be a blush, Trowa looked away. "Myself and the others are by one of the pools. If you wouldn't mind the company you may come with me."  
  
Suddenly, the idea of sitting with Trowa was very appealing. Quatre still didn't know very many people in the camps yet, and it would be nice not to have to sit alone knowing everyone was staring at him anyway.  
  
Nodding his consent, he followed Trowa through a maze of pools and silk before a mass of brush opened into one of the more secluded pools. There Quatre saw Wufei reading quietly under the shade of a palm tree; Heero running his hands over his arms applying what Quatre thought must be sunscreen; and Duo, who was playing in the water, trying desperately to catch a water jet as it popped out of the waters surface.  
  
Heero saw them first and smiled kindly. Heero's smiles were often kind, but didn't always reach his eyes, this one however, did. "Hello, Quatre."  
  
Quatre nodded at his friend. "Hi."  
  
"Oi! Quatre! You gotta come in here, the water's perfect! I look like a prune, I swear to God, you should see my fingertips!" The longhaired boy laughed outright and Quatre saw Wufei roll his eyes before hiding his smile.  
  
He offered Duo a small smile before following Trowa to the shade by Wufei. The Chinese boy questioned him about the shake and datapad.  
  
"It's my homework. I didn't get a chance to finish it with Abdule." He paused, slightly ashamed. "I'm still having trouble with numbers above a hundred." He looked away, sipping at his shake to ignore the misery that statement had brought him. He hated to admit not knowing something.  
  
Trowa's voice was light when he spoke, as if he understood and sympathized with how Quatre was feeling. "I could look over it with you if you want."  
  
Quatre looked up, offered a sad half smile and moved closer to Trowa, sitting before him so that they were facing each other.  
  
It was like that for nearly ten minutes. Trowa pointing out simple errors Quatre had made in his number writing, mostly writing them backwards or in some rare cases, upside down. Quatre listened patiently, only speaking to ask a question when he absolutely couldn't follow a word Trowa had said, which was only once. He was actually starting to get the hang of it when Duo came over and dripped all over him.  
  
Startled, Quatre reeled back before looking up and squinting at Duo.  
  
"Oh, sorry, Quatre. Listen, I wasn't kidding about that water. Why don't you take a break and come in for a little while. Besides, you know what they say about all work and no play." It must have been evident on Quatre's face that he had no idea what "they" said. But Duo just shrugged and extended his hand down to Quatre.  
  
With a glance to make sure it was all right with Trowa, Quatre stood on his own and moved over to the water's edge with Duo. The overhead lights of the artificial sun reflected rainbow light patterns across the surface of the water. The light seemed to dance as the warm air blew around Quatre's body. It was so peaceful here, so soft and gentle. The trees swayed in the breeze, and the rustle of the shrubs was like a song to him.  
  
He closed his eyes, the beauty of the place threatening to overwhelm him as he remembered the starkness of his satellite. The conditions had been unbearable there, hot or cold, it didn't matter, there was never a time where it was comfortable. But here, in this beautiful place, there was life all around him; so much so that it fed on itself, giving the illusion of unity in form. It was breathtaking to behold, and Quatre found his throat had tightened at the thoughts running though his head.  
  
With a quick shake, Quatre followed Duo to the edge of the pool.  
  
Smiling, Duo stopped Quatre with a hand to his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now Quatre, there are two ways to get into a pool. The first is you can go over to those steps and slowly wade in--a recommendation for those without swimming experience. On the other hand, the second alternative is--oh, why don't I show you!" And with that, Duo took a flying leap into the pool, sailing about six feet away from the edge. A torrential splash issued out of the pool and Quatre heard Wufei and Heero yelling at their partner.  
  
The thing that caught Quatre as being strange was the fact that his face wore a smile, and he hadn't even had to tell his mouth to make it. A smile he hadn't had to direct, those were few and far between.  
  
Not pausing to think too much about it, Quatre moved over to the steps that lead down into the water. He was about to step in when Duo's head broke the surface.  
  
"Hey Quatre! Take off your sandals first, they track too much dirt into the pools, and I've got pool duty week after next."  
  
Take off his sandals?  
  
Take them off!  
  
Suddenly, going into the pool didn't seem like such a good idea. He took a step away from the lip. He could see Duo's concerned expression out of the corner of his eye.  
  
He tried to take another, was about to tell Duo he'd changed his mind, when he backed up and bumped right up against Heero. The other boy steadied him before dropping his hands. "The water will do you some good, Quatre. Besides, if you stay in there for twenty minutes, I won't make you come and see me later." And then with a smile, Heero dove into the water, barely causing a ripple.  
  
"Showoff! Heero, you're such a flirt!" Duo cried indignantly, before he suddenly realized that Heero's torpedoing form was headed straight for him. With a cry, he too dove under the water and raced towards the island in the middle of the pool, upon which grew a great palm tree.  
  
But in Quatre's head there was a great war being waged. Take off his sandals, expose his feet, or spend an hour with Heero later that night. He didn't mind spending time with Heero, he liked the quiet boy if truth be told, but he and Abdule had started a new strategy game and it would be nice not to have it interrupted by his nightly visit to the gym and Heero. But his feet.  
  
He could just take off his sandals facing away from the pool where Heero and Duo were splashing each other playfully, and to the left, away from Trowa and Wufei. Then he'd only have to spend twenty minutes in the water and finish his homework before he could play the rest of the night with Abdule.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Quatre made his decision and moved to the pool's edge. Silently, and with tiny movements to draw less attention to himself, Quatre released the clasps on his sandals before slipping them off, careful to keep the soles of his feet always pointing downwards. Once removed, he turned his sandals upside down next to the lip before quickly shoving his feet into the water.  
  
He wasn't prepared for the stinging. He wasn't ready for the tiny points of burning fire that jabbed and stabbed at the soles of his feet the moment the water touched them. Liquid fire raced up his legs and Quatre lost his balance under the strain and fell backwards, his lower half submersed as he sat heavily upon the entrance stairs.  
  
"Quatre?" In pain and startled, Quatre shot his head around to see Trowa standing now instead of sitting by Wufei, both his and Wufei's eyes upon him. "Are you alright?"  
  
The pain was like needles forcing their way through his flesh, imbedding themselves into his very bones. It seared his flesh, cut into it like a thousand tiny razorblades streaking across the soles.  
  
Quickly he nodded before trying to stand.  
  
He imagined he could feel the skin splitting now, cracks and chasms opening up between his toes, traveling down until they met at his instep. He imagined the reddish green puss flowing from his open sores, slowly staining the water a disgusting color of decay.  
  
Quatre managed three steps until the pain overwhelmed him. He cried out as his legs buckled under the torturous pain of his own weight; the pads of his feet being eaten alive by the water and the stone bottom of the pool.  
  
For a second he thought he heard someone call his name, but then his head was under the water, the liquid rushing into his mouth. For one tiny moment he considered allowing the clear liquid to fill his lungs, for just a second he considered taking a willing step towards his own destruction. He didn't have time to consider it more than that.  
  
Strong, thin arms suddenly wrapped under his own and lifted his head above the water, pulled his face so that it broke the surface and his one traitorous idea was spoiled as he drew oxygen and not water. He sputtered, coughing up the water he'd accidentally swallowed as he struggled to keep from crying out as his feet scrapped the bottom of the pool.  
  
A few feet from the steps, one of the more jagged rocks tipped with his foot and pressed into the grove marks left by his Reprogrammer. The scream issued from his lips before he could stop it. Blinding agony raced up his leg and wrapped itself around his mind until there was only red and black and nothing else.  
  
It came to him slowly. He didn't recognize it at first. As his vision started to clear, and the ringing in his ears dimmed to a dull tone, he realized there were hands on him, and he wasn't afraid.  
  
He was leaning against someone's chest, smaller than Rashid's, but just as defined. A pair of legs were beside his, so that Quatre knew he sat between the legs of the person that was holding him. There were hands on his knees, one of the fingers had a small gold ring--Duo's hands. And there were Heero's, one on his knee, the other on his hip, steadying him. He recognized Wufei's on his face, those meticulous fingers trying to force Quatre to look at him. But that's not where Quatre wanted to look. With a defeated sort of force, he turned his head to the left and looked up, up into the frightened and worried, emerald eyes of Trowa. He felt fingers skitter across the center of his chest and knew without looking that Trowa's hand was pressed against his heart. He felt his bangs being brushed away from his eyes so he could see more clearly, look more deeply into the concern of Trowa's stare.  
  
He didn't know he sighed, didn't know he was sobbing until the hands that had only been resting on his body began to caress his flesh in comfort and sympathy. Quatre didn't say anything, didn't utter a word, just turned his body into Trowa's and used both of his hands to keep Trowa's own against his heart.  
  
The temperature was a little cooler, the lights a little dimmer when Quatre finally came back to himself. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he imagined it had been a long while; and yet, all four Recruits were still seated around him, all still slowly offering comfort through the touch of his skin. Distantly he heard Duo's voice telling him everything was going to be ok, that everyone had to have a good cry once in a while. He heard Wufei and Heero voice their agreement, and heard Heero offer that he'd cried only last week.  
  
It was such a touching gesture, the admissions of their own shortcomings to ease his suffering. He felt the need to explain, felt the need to tell them what had really happened.  
  
He drew in a shaking breath and shift only slightly away from Trowa's body. But Trowa's hand did not let him go, and while he allowed Quatre to turn to face the other boys, he pulled Quatre's body back, tightly against him in his new position.  
  
Carefully, slowly, Quatre lifted his right foot out of the water bringing it to break the surface and crossing it at his knee so that the sole pointed upwards, so that they could see.  
  
Quatre knew that Wufei had seen his feet before, that wasn't really why he was showing them. He heard Duo gasp at the sight, and while Heero didn't make a sound, the Japanese boy did tighten his hand about Quatre's hip.  
  
His feet were quite simply grotesque. Misshapen stubs of flesh were the closest he could come when describing them. His foot had five toes, but none had toenails. Large chunks of flesh were missing from sporadic areas across the sole, and his heel had deep burn marks like drill bits a quarter inch into the flesh. Grove's of flesh were cut across the pads, most noticeably from middle toe to the bottom of his heel, and from left of the instep to the right. A few chunks of skin were only barely attached, so that the water actually rushed under the flesh, causing it to float minutely away from his foot.  
  
He reasoned his foot looked worse then normal due to its time under the water, but he said nothing about that. When he did speak, it was short sentences, the emotion long since abandoning his voice.  
  
"The Reprogrammer's work. My father told him not to touch my face, too noticeable. My feet were better. Shoes hide the damage. Socks are torture. I used to limp. Got beat for that. I don't limp anymore. They.hurt. All the time. I don't notice it some days anymore. Water makes them hurt more. So do socks. Rocks are..." He broke off, the sob catching in his throat.  
  
There was silence for a moment, and then Wufei broke it. "May I look, Quatre?" He nodded absently and turned into Trowa's neck, closing his eyes as his tall friend ran gentle fingers though his hair.  
  
The exam lasted for only a moment. "I assumed when you did not say anything about the pain, that the nerve endings in your feet had died from the trauma. I wish you had told me sooner, Quatre, there are procedures, ointments I could have given you to ease your suffering."  
  
A minute passed as Wufei waited for him to answer, and finally Quatre just shook his head. He didn't say anything, only shook his head. How could he tell them that he still thought he deserved the pain, that it was his own brand of self-punishment? A reminder of what he'd been through and what he'd die before going back to. He didn't know how to put that into words they'd understand--didn't know if it made sense either way--so he kept quiet.  
  
Suddenly a booming voice broke the quiet of Quatre's contemplation.  
  
"What is going on? Quatre, are you alright?" Rashid's voice startled them all, and Quatre quickly pushed his foot back under the water before his Teacher could see it. He also raced to speak before the others could tell his secret.  
  
"I-I'm fine. It's just--just the water overwhelmed me. I'm sorry, I just haven't seen so much water all in one place before. I-I started to cry. I'm sorry." He dropped his head, not daring to look at the accusing faces around him. He heard Trowa whisper his name but ignored it, instead using all his available strength to push away from the hands around him. He ducked his head pretending to watch his step, as his still burning feet were again forced to support his weight in the water. He made a mad grab for his sandals and quickly stuffed his feet into them before looking up at Rashid. "I'm a little tired now, Rashid. Heero said I wouldn't have to see him tonight if I went into the water for awhile. Do you think I could go home and take a nap?"  
  
"Of course." And with that Rashid propelled him out of the alcove.  
  
At the last available spot before he disappeared behind the bushes, he turned back to look at his friends. They were all staring at him with pure worry and fear in their gazes. He gave them a forced smile.  
  
"Thank you, but I'll be fine now."  
  
None of them looked away as he turned the corner. 


	20. Chapter 20

AUTHOR'S NOTE  
  
After much deliberation, I've decided to continue this story on ff.net. I politely ask that people refrain from threatening me in their reviews if I don't continue fast enough. This story is very important to me and I want it to be written perfectly. I hope everyone can understand my perfectionism as it pertains to the plot and character development. I admit full that the grammar could be better, but as I'm currently in the market for a beta, readers will have to bear with me. If anyone would like to take up the position of beta, let me know: quwinntessas@attbi.com  
  
Please let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this story go. I love hearing the hypotheses of readers, please don't hesitate to share. Also, if there are any particular scenes you'd love to see happen please let me know, I like incorporating as many reader scenes as possible.  
  
My new FF.net url is :   
  
QS  
  
Chapter 20  
  
Quatre hadn't really wanted to go. No, he'd wanted to stay inside and finish the game he and Abdule had started the night before. But Rashid had insisted, and while Quatre was willing to state his opinions on things now, he wasn't willing to question something once Rashid had told him to do it.  
  
The boys hadn't said anything about his feet and Quatre was confident that they wouldn't. Wufei had cornered him the next day and give him some numbing cream, and that had helped more than any other remedy that Quatre had ever tried. Wufei had suggested that Quatre consider a type of surgery, but after learning that he'd have to tell Rashid, Quatre opted not to, instead telling Wufei that he'd think about it, while putting the entire procedure out of his mind.  
  
But all that had happened yesterday, and today, Quatre was busy walking down the long hallway towards Treize's quarters. To his right Abdule accompanied him. Rashid had been pulled away by some meeting of the council he'd had to attend but Quatre was more than willing to follow Abdule.  
  
His brother stopped at the door Quatre knew belonged to Trieze and Milliardo. Quatre wasn't completely sure how that relationship all worked but he was content to know that neither Heero nor Wufei seemed concerned about it.  
  
Abdule turned to him. "Now don't panic. Treize usually invites the new Recruits for a game of chess. Besides, after that show the two of you put on the other day, I can't image how he could stay away from the challenge."  
  
Quatre blushed, remember the sudo-challenge he'd been issued by Treize and his reply back. "I didn't mean to cause a scene."  
  
Abdule shook his head, waving his hands in denial in front of him. "No! That's not what I meant. Actually, I'm sure that Trieze is tickled to know that he'll be playing against someone with some manners. When Heero first played with Treize, Heero lost, and knocked the board over before tying to strangle him! I'm not kidding! Heero's background told him that if he lost he'd die, so he decided to try his luck killing  
  
Trieze first. Thankfully, Zechs was there to pull the boy off and explain things. That was a really interesting game I heard. Poor Wufei nearly had a heart attack trying to get Heero away from Treize. We were all so surprised when they hooked up, especially since they didn't really like each other at first; but that's there story to tell. Anyway, just have a good game, and don't be afraid to loose, Treize kicks everyone's butt the first time, he's never lost a first game."  
  
Nodding his understanding, and filling the tidbit away about Heero and Wufei not liking each other, Quatre followed Abdule into the room when the door opened.  
  
Treize's room seemed to embody the man himself, not to mention Wufei. The room was beautifully furnished in oak and cherry wood. Classic and artful designs raced up inlaid pillars and while wall scrolls portrayed ancient Chinese sayings and things even Quatre couldn't decipher. Chinese art raced across the room, matched only by the classic European designs of the furniture and coloring. Quatre noticed that the couches looked inviting even though they were the embodiment of upper-class royalty. He remembered couches like that from his home on L-4, but they'd never looked so comfortable.  
  
It was from one of these couches that Treize rose, walking to Abdule and greeting the older Recruit with a warm hug. He turned to Quatre then, but seemed to notice that a hug would not be well received and instead put out his hand.  
  
This Quatre too understood. He'd had all the edict lessons any child born to privilege was expected to have. It was the only true lessons he'd received.  
  
He took Treize's hand, shaking it twice before letting go-not dropping it, only heathens and those less so dropped a hand, this was a private game of war and dominance. Quatre was already on edge, so playing the game was no problem for him. Not a single part of him wanted to lose this battle, and he refused to give up any ground unless he absolutely had too. His eyes were warm steel as he looked into Treize's eyes, his intentions clear: I will not lose this private game we are playing, I won't lose anything to you.  
  
Treize smiled, and from the smile Quatre knew he understood and had accepted the challenge, just as anyone raised as they had been should have. "Welcome to my humble abode. Please make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you something to drink?" Abdule requested some kind of fruit juice and Quatre took the offered water.  
  
Abdule ushered Quatre into a seat on the couch, but Quatre instinctively took to one of the high-backed chairs that circled an elegantly carved Chinese coffee table, depicting Confucius teaching by the river. Abdule gave him an odd look but it was as if Quarter were in another world now, one that he understood much better than Abdule. This game he could play, and when it came time to play chess, he'd continue the game on the board.  
  
Treize returned with their beverages, smiling as Quatre took his with a large smile that was as false as any would be in this situation. When Treize sat he tired to alleviate the severity of the atmosphere.  
  
"Quatre, I asked Abdule to bring you here so we could get to know each other. I've learned that you are quite interested in strategy games, and since I am the teacher for the Strategy Path, I thought we could talk a little. Now, that's not to say of course that you'll be put onto this path, but it's as good an indication as any. The council likes to place Recruits where they're interested, so this might be true in your case as well. Anyway, I didn't think a game of chess would do us any harm, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
There was no challenge in Treize's voice, in fact it was completely devoid of any kind of challenge in it at all; but Quatre had learned to build in challenges when they were absent, it was the only way for him to stay one step ahead.  
  
"No harm at all, Mr. Treize. I, in fact, look forward to a good game." Quatre's voice however, held all the challenge void from Treize's and then some. Treize noticed but did nothing save to quirk one delicately forked eyebrow.  
  
"Then if you have no objections, perhaps we should begin?"  
  
Quatre didn't hesitate--to hesitate was to admit fear. "Yes, I believe that will suffice."  
  
He glanced at Abdule and noticed right away the perplexed look on his brother's face. Quatre knew it was his words that put that look there, that it was Abdule's way of asking what was going on, and why all of a sudden was the constant shake and quiver of unspoken fear absent from Quatre's voice. He resigned himself to explain as much as he could to Abdule later, of telling his brother of the lessons he'd been through as a child, how to stand and sit, how to accept an invitation and how to decline one, how to make a challenge, and how to win. He'd explain as much as he could once they were back home, once they were away from prying eyes.  
  
Quatre rose when Treize did, following him to a rice paper divide that showed a red Chinese dragon circling the Daoist symbol of Yin and Yang. On the other side of the divide, was a beautifully crafted chessboard, made from a material called Ivory that had not been a legally trades substance for well over three hundred years.  
  
Quatre raised his eyes at the board, ready to begin the political game from this perspective. "I had thought such material was banned even in the colonies." He stated airily, a sweeping gesture indicating the chess board pieces.  
  
Treize understood and made the appropriate reply. "Indeed, it is against legislation to purchase such pieces, but this set has been in my family since Before Colony. I believe that absolves me from any implications as to my possession of it."  
  
And then, Quatre found his way in. "If you insist, though I would think a gentleman's morality would prevent him from even considering a game between gentlemen on such a board." So that with that one simple sentence, he'd won the round.  
  
Treize again raised one forked eyebrow, as if coming to the realization that the game Quatre was playing was complete, that no stops were about to be pulled, and no mercy granted. "You are of course correct. If it concerns you, I will exchange our set for another."  
  
This to Quatre accepted, and countered. "Thank you, but that is not necessary, for neither you nor I are gentleman in the eyes that would find this set unacceptable." In this he had set both of their places, by his statement alone, he'd defined who they were. They were casts off from society, homosexuals, and so they had no morality with which to be offended.  
  
Trieze wisely chose not to comment on such a claim.  
  
Without being asked, Quatre settled in front of the white pieces. As was customary, Quatre made the first move, lifting his hand off the piece when he was committed to its location.  
  
It went like this for quite some time. Quatre would move and be countered almost immediately by Treize. Then, in response, Quatre would move another piece, effectively preventing the movement he suspected was to come from the older man.  
  
He had no idea how much time had passed until he looked up at his brother and found that Abdule had moved a chair close to Quatre's own chair, but was watching the vid com and not the game.  
  
For a moment, Quatre forgot that he could not show weakness in front of an opponent. "Abdule?" His brother turned, startled to hear the first live voice in the room in hours. "If you want we can go. I don't want to bore you." He realized his mistake the moment the two sentences were past his lips, but held firm to his belief that he would not show that knowledge to Treize. He kept his eyes locked on Abdule, as he imagined his brother's red ones were flittering back and forth from Quatre to Treize.  
  
"No, that's ok. I'm just watching some travel show about L-2. You go ahead and play. You must be doing pretty good, the two of you have been at it for three hours now."  
  
Three hours?! Quatre tried to think back to the time it took for each of his moves. He valued Treize as an opponent immediately. The older man was beyond skilled at this particular game of strategy. It was obvious to Quatre that the aristocrat had spent years studying the game before them, just as much as Quatre had.  
  
Without looking at Treize, Quatre nodded once to Abdule and then looked back to examine the board. Six of his pieces lay to the side of the board in front of Treize, before Quatre lay only four. Quatre had lost one castle, a bishop, and four pawns; Treize was missing a knight, a bishop, and two pawns. The board looked equally as divided. From a glance, it was obvious that Treize was winning. Quatre's pieces were scattered around the board now, in a disarray of white and black.  
  
But that was only at a glance. Beneath the cover of disorganization and misplaced moves, was a true battle of the minds. It was guerrilla warfare on Quatre's part, a war that was just about to begin against the organized ranks of Treize's Roman forces.  
  
Looking up to meet Treize's eyes, Quatre nodded before looking back to the board and making his first move.  
  
Bishop takes pawn.  
  
Treize followed suite, seemingly unmindful of the strategy Quatre was employing.  
  
Pawn takes Bishop. Quatre no longer had any Bishops.  
  
Knight takes pawn.  
  
Treize moved his Queen into position for an attack against Quatre's Castle.  
  
Knight takes pawn.  
  
Queen takes Castle. Quatre no longer had any Castles.  
  
Pawn takes pawn.  
  
Queen takes pawn. Treize moved the offensive piece.  
  
"You can't make that move, Mr. Treize." Quatre's voice was confident as he pointed to the board, offering no other explanation, allowing the older man to see his own error.  
  
Curious, Treize glanced at the board, and indeed, he could not make that move as it opened his King to check.  
  
"I apologize, Quatre. I will take the move back as you said."  
  
At the sound of their voices once again in the room, Abdule moved to stand beside Quatre and looked at the board.  
  
With the piece back in place, Treize took a moment to consider his next step. Quatre's correction had seemingly placed a kink into his defensive line.  
  
The man decided to move his King one square to the left.  
  
Quatre moved one pawn towards the back line of Treize's board, now three squares from the back and directly in line to be captured in two moves by Treize's King itself. Quatre looked up in time to see Treize allow a small smile to form across his lips.  
  
Queen to front right square.  
  
And then to Quatre, the game was all over. He saw it clearly, just as he'd seen the entire game from the fourth move. He saw the pawn take pawn; Queen take pawn, Knight move ahead and to the left, Queen take Knight, pawn move one, King move right, Queen move to back left corner, Knight to block Queen from King, Queen to cross to the right to take pawn, King to move left, Queen to take Queen, Knight to block Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take Queen, pawn to move one, Bishop to take pawn, pawn to be Queened- Checkmate!  
  
In seventeen moves the game would be over and Quatre would win. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the victor. In seventeen moves Quatre would be the first person to ever beat Treize on the first game. In seventeen moves, Quatre didn't know what was going to happen.  
  
Never before had Treize lost during the first match. Never before had the man's patience been tempted in such a way. How would he react? What would he say or do? Would he become angry as most gentlemen did when they lost a game of strategy, not to mention to a boy? Would he be violent? Would his anger-rage-cause him to lash out?  
  
Quatre was just starting to really recover from his earlier illnesses. He was just starting to be able to walk long distances, but to run them, to run from this much larger man while still looking out for his brother, for Abdule, Quatre didn't think he could manage that.  
  
What should he do? Should he tempt the man's wrath? Should he play out the game and the see what kind of man Treize really was, or should he lose, deliberately misdirect a piece and give the man the win? What were the consequences of each?  
  
If Quatre won, Treize could be violent, he could be cruel to Quatre in the future. What if Quatre was given to this path, what if Treize was bitter towards losing to him, and took the bitterness out on him as Quatre's own sisters once had?  
  
But what if he took what Abdule and Rashid said as correct, what if he believed that Treize wouldn't harm him, and even if he would, that Abdule and Rashid would never let it go. Quatre tried to reason that Rashid and Abdule could protect him from Treize's wrath should the man try to take out his anger on Quatre, he tried, but in the end, he failed.  
  
Quatre tipped over his King.  
  
Surprised by the move, Treize did nothing for a moment as he reexamined the board, looking for the thing that he could not see. Abdule too looked puzzled as he leaned towards Treize to examine the board from that angle as well.  
  
Quatre didn't dare let them continue. Clearing his throat, he put out his hand, waiting for Treize to reciprocate and shake his hand in a good game fashion. But when Treize did not move, instead turning his eyes from the board to Quatre's waiting hand and then turquoise eyes, he again cocked his eyebrow.  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot see what move I might make to end this match. Perhaps you might enlighten me before we shake."  
  
Caught, Quatre struggled to find a reasonable move to assume that Treize could have made and one that he might equally have made in error. Looking desperately at the board, Quatre searched frantically to find the illusive move that would set him free to return himself and Abdule to their quarters safely.  
  
In the end he couldn't find it quickly enough.  
  
"Quatre, you'll forgive me, but think you might have conceded this match too quickly. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of straightening your King and continuing."  
  
He didn't mean for it to happen, didn't mean for his eyes to suddenly give away years of training at the hands of his father and tutors. Quatre didn't expect the shaking to start in his limbs so that the King fell twice before he could properly right it. No, he didn't expect any of those things to happen, but they none the less did.  
  
Abdule noticed. In one step, Abdule was beside him, kneeling down to come eye level with the sitting Quatre. "Quatre, it's ok. Don't worry, it's ok. Remember I told you to just do your best. Nothing bad's going to happen to you, whether you win or lose. OH! Quatre."  
  
With a shift, Quatre folded into his brother, throwing his arms around Abdule's neck in a crushing hug that spoke more of his fear than even words could. How could he explain, how could he tell Abdule that he didn't want to do anything that might endanger him, even if no one thought a danger was present?  
  
Abdule and Rashid were the first people that Quatre could really say he consciously cared about, worrying about how his actions could effect them. He'd considered his sisters and father once too, but they had never consumed his thoughts like they did. The very idea that Abdule could be injured by his actions made him quake with such fear he could barely contain the shivers as they coursed across his muscles to dissolve into Abdule's frame.  
  
Quatre didn't realize he'd allowed himself to be pulled into his brother's lap, didn't notice the slow rocking motion, or the fact that Treize had left the room to get Rashid. Quatre didn't notice that the side of his face was pressed flush to Abdule's neck, didn't notice and didn't care. He was so afraid. It seemed that nothing could be easy for him, nothing came without consequences that only he could see. His struggles to believe in the goodness of those around him were for not, because every time he attempted to trust one of them, he found it wasn't in his nature.  
  
Quatre closed his eyes, allowing Abdule to continue the slow rocking motion he'd set. He listened with almost obsessed fascination to the kind words that Abdule spoke, the soft way his voice resounded about them, the feel of his much larger hands running across Quatre's back and bare arms.  
  
Abdule was so kind to him, so loving, such a perfect brother. Quatre had often wondered if he would have been a good brother if given the chance. He wondered if he would have taken his crying sisters into his arms, held them like he was being held now, rocked them as he was being rocked, kissed their hair and whispered reassurances to them as was being done to him now. He didn't know, but he didn't think so.  
  
"I-I'm sorry." He shifted, hiding his face in half shame half fear from Abdule's searching gaze.  
  
"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Quatre. You've been through so much in your life, and even since you got here you've had a lot to think about and to recover from. I can't blame you for being hesitant and scared, I could never blame you. I was scared too when I got here, some days I still am. I wake up in the morning, snuggled beside Rashid, your blond hair against his chest, sticking up everywhere, and I think, 'What did I do to deserve this perfection? What could I have possibly done to deserve a family that loves me?' And then I get afraid, afraid that I'll waked up and it will all be a dream and I'll be back in the barracks, coal dust everywhere, not a clean place on me, and the lash marks from my last beating still fresh and bloody. But do you know what I do when I think like that? Do you want to know the secret to making that feeling go away?"  
  
Wide-eyed with hope that Abdule had a cure for this constant doubt that plagued him, Quatre nodded.  
  
Abdule smiled, a very soft, very comforting smile, and then slowly leaned down-giving Quatre plenty of warning and time to move away-before gently brushing his lips against the trembling one's of the boy in his lap. When he pulled back, Quatre watched with large eyes as his brother smiled down at him before nuzzling his cheek with his nose. "I remember that I'm a Maguanac now, not a slave, and definitely not some bastard's toy. I remember that I've got a Teacher that loves me, and a little brother at home who needs me to be strong. I remember that the men around me understand what I've been through because they've been through a lot of the same. But most of all, I remember this: Rashid loves me; so I'm safe.  
  
"And that's all, Quatre. That's all there has to be. Rashid loves us both, he'll take care of both of us forever-or at least long enough for us to find our own way. Beyond that, other people love us too, even if it's not so obvious. You might not know everyone very well yet, but I guarantee that there isn't a one that wouldn't die for you, Quatre. You're a very special boy, and something tells me you're going to be an extremely important man when you grow up. But until then, you're just a boy, and that means you need others to take care of you for a while. You'll have to trust us, Quatre. You'll have to trust Rashid to care for you, and make sure that nothing bad happens to you. Trust that he would never have let you come to play chess with Treize if he didn't' know you'd be safe. Trust that he would have never sent me with you if I couldn't have kept you safe as well. Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family." Abdule, smiled, running his fingers along Quatre's cheek. "You're my brother, and I'll always take care of you."  
  
Closing his eyes, Quatre nodded, allowing Abdule to pull him into the crook of his neck. He heard the door open but did not look up, felt the presence of Rashid beside him, but remained quiet, soaking up the truth he'd felt in everything Abdule had said-said with his hand directly over Quatre's heart.  
  
When he'd defined it, categorized every single one of Abdule's words, and committed as much as he could remember to memory, he opened his eyes and came face to face with his brother, and smiled. Abdule returned the gesture.  
  
"Do you want to finish your game with Treize now, Quatre?" He heard the humor in Abdule's voice, and smiled disarmingly at his Teacher when Rashid frowned at the suggestion.  
  
Quatre ducked his eyes sheepishly as he glanced at Treize leaning against the back of the couch, concern written clearly across his face. "Um, I don't have to finish, it's already done."  
  
Treize cleared his throat. "Quatre, I will of course allow you to straighten your King. There is much still left of our game." He stopped at the shake of Quatre's head.  
  
With one more confirming glance to Abdule, and one more towards his still silent Teacher, he looked at Treize and took a deep breath, a little more confident now that both his Teacher and his brother were with him. "If you wish to maintain your current status, you should allow my concede from the game."  
  
At Treize's arched eyebrow, Quatre ducked again before receiving a short squeeze from Abdule.  
  
"If we continue, you will lose in seventeen moves."  
  
The silence was deafening. Worried, that his fears were about to come true, Quatre wrapped his left arm about Abdule's neck and tugged ever so slightly, a plea for both comfort and reassurance.  
  
For his part, Treize moved to look down at the chessboard. He studied it for a long time, a period in which, Rashid moved to stand next to him, both looking down at the board in confusion. Abdule just snuggled him closer and began to rock them both.  
  
Finally, Treize turned to him. "You'll have to forgive me, Quatre, but I cannot see how you could win. Perhaps you'd be so good as to allow our game to continue to the last. It would please me greatly if you were correct."  
  
From where he sat in the circling comfort of his brother's arms, Quatre looked up at the man he'd been fearful of only minutes before. There was no cruelty in his stance, no malice or intent to harm in what little Quatre could glean from his gift. The man seemed genuinely curious, and Quatre felt a little bit stronger.  
  
With a tentative nod he stood, allowing both Rashid and Abdule to help him when his legs gave way due to his past illness. Still silent, Rashid helped him to the chair before moving back to hold Abdule tightly in his embrace.  
  
Quatre glanced at them both-his family-before redirecting his attention to the world of black and white before him. With the righting of his King, Quatre took his first move and began the final dance.  
  
Quatre's pawn took Treize's.  
  
Fifteen moves were over in a little over an hour, and not a single move had differed from how Quatre had seen them in his mind's eye. At fifteen moves, Treize stopped, his hand hovering over his pieces, only to see the inevitable, and return them to his lap. The older man was silent for a long time, looking continuously over the board, retracing his steps from the first move of the last fifteen.  
  
Then, to Quatre's sudden worry, Treize, instructor for the path of Strategy, gently tipped over his King, conceding the match. "As you said it would be, Quatre, seventeen moves until my loss. It was an excellent game. However, I must ask you, how could you possibly have seen my defeat in seventeen moves. Not even the great Bobby Fish, now nearly five hundred years gone, could predict more than twelve? This is far from an accusation, but does it have anything to do with your gift as an empath?"  
  
Quatre felt the familiar jolt of panic seize his heart at Treize's question. He remembered the images of beaten men, women and children, all reported empaths, beaten to death by a society that despised them for their curses. He saw an image of his own face, as it appeared in the shinny reflective surface of the bulkhead, bruised and beaten by his father once again.  
  
So he stood, moving the chair back gently as Treize too stood, self- recrimination written in his expression. In a few strides, Quatre was in the safety of Abdule's arms once again, the feel of his brother's kiss against his hair a comfort Quatre wished he'd had his whole life. When he felt Rashid's hand come to rest on his shoulder, Quatre turned back to face Treize.  
  
"I don't know how I do it. I don't think it has anything to do with my.curse. I just watched your moves and then anticipated what you'd do next. You're a methodical player, once I figured out that you play like the Roman legions were at your command, I just played the part assigned to defeat them."  
  
"And what part was that, Quatre?"  
  
"The heathens. I destroyed your army by not being afraid to die myself, or take others along with me."  
  
In the silence that followed, Rashid steered Quatre and Abdule towards the door, exiting politely but quietly as the family moved back to their own apartment at the end of the hallway. It didn't escape Quatre's notice however, that Rashid was visibly upset by his answer, or that Treize was still by the table when they left, his eyes transfixed to that of Quatre's King, standing tall over a victory, and an army of only four pawns and a Queen.  
  
* * *  
  
Later, Quatre entered the living room, his hair wet from the shower he'd taken after dinner when he felt Rashid and Abdule needed some time alone together. He'd sensed that something wasn't right with Rashid, but remained silent. Now that he was reentering the room, he felt his Teacher was more at ease; perhaps the time with Abdule had helped him.  
  
His brother lay across the couch, his hand poised over the remote control as he changed the channel during a commercial. It was Wednesday, which meant that Abdule's favorite science fiction show would be on. Quatre noticed that Rashid was in the chair closest to the door, his datapad forgotten at Quatre's entrance.  
  
"Feeling better?" Quatre offered a quick smile and a nod at Rashid's question. "Good. Is your homework finished?" Again, Quatre nodded. "Very good." And then Rashid was silent, as if he could read the indecision racing through Quatre's mind and heart.  
  
He'd been this way since entering the shower. Thoughts racing as he considered his options and the words Abdule had spoken to him that afternoon. Could he do it? Should he even attempt it? If it failed, if he couldn't stand it, what would he do then? How could he face them, their disappointment?  
  
And suddenly, Abdule's words came back to him.  
  
Trust in us, Quatre, trust in us to love you and care for you like no one else ever has because we will; you're our family.  
  
Before he could change his mind, before the doubt came back to crush the last semblance of strength he'd taken from those words, Quatre crossed the room and stood before the couch his brother lay on.  
  
Abdule looked up. "Do you want to sit down, Quatre?"  
  
Silently, Quatre shook his head, his eyes drifting away from Abdule's only to have him force them back with a sense of defiance towards his past.  
  
Holding his brother's eyes with his own, Quatre said one of the hardest things he could ever remember saying. "Please don't be sad if I can't do this." He didn't pause to consider Abdule's questioning look.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Quatre lifted Abdule's arm from where it lay across his chest and moved it to rest against the tall man's hip and the couch back. And then, through some unspoken agreement, Abdule shifted slowly onto his side, holding Quatre's eyes all the while. The invitation was clear, even to Quatre's deprived understanding. Taking a deep breath, Quatre turned away from Abdule to face the vid screen, and sat down, breathing hard as his fear threatened to catch up with him.  
  
Pushing it aside, pushing all other thoughts from his mind, Quatre concentrated on making his muscles move, of blocking out the sensations that flooded his deprived senses, as slowly, very slowly, he lay down across the couch, and leaned back against Abdule.  
  
Stiff as a board, they lay that way through the next act of the show, Abdule laughing heartily in all the right places, Quatre fighting every survival skill he'd ever known, and Rashid watching them carefully hypothesizing about what would come next.  
  
It turned out, that next would come Abdule's arm, down across Quatre's biceps, his hand laying lightly against Quatre's upper stomach and lower chest. Very softly, he offered his explanation. "That's more comfortable."  
  
They laid that way for nearly three hours, watching shows they'd never seen before to prolong the moment, fearful it wouldn't come again if tempted too early or too late. Somewhere in the second hour, Quatre's muscles released, somewhere in that same hour his neck gave way so that his head lay cushioned comfortably on Abdule's arm. Then somewhere in the third hour, Quatre fell asleep from exhaustion.  
  
When Abdule noticed and threatened to shake him awake, Rashid finally intervened. Rising, the giant moved to the couch and gathered Quatre into his arms before stepping back to wait for Abdule. His first Recruit smiled warmly before rising, stretching, and moving with his Teacher to the bedroom.  
  
As a team, they drew Quatre's clothing from his body, stripping him until he wore only a pair of loose silk pants. At Rashid's nod, Abdule stripped completely before sliding into bed. The Recruit was startled as Rashid lovingly placed Quatre's head upon his shoulder. Worried that his Teacher would again grow distant because of the brothers' closeness, he tried to protest with gestures alone. But Rashid only shook his head before removing his clothing and sliding in behind Quatre, the boy's back pressed against his chest.  
  
Large but gentle fingers found their way into Abdule's hair, and the twenty- seven year old man nearly purred with what that gesture meant.  
  
All was right between them.  
  
Snuggling Quatre closer to him, Abdule reached out and smiled when Rashid took his hand, bringing it to his lips before kissing each finger. With Rashid's fingers intertwined with his own, their hands laying across Quatre's side, Abdule drifted off to sleep.  
  
Rashid lay awake for a long time, considering the things that had happened this day, and the things he'd learned from Howard in their private meeting earlier that afternoon. Quatre's answers from earlier that day concerned him, especially in light of Howard's confirmations of Master Habsaba's movements. There was something desperately special about Quatre, something so important about the boy that now lay between himself and his lover. Quatre had a role to play that even he could not hope to uncover at present, but the boy was just that, a boy, and today, that boy had made an amazing advancement towards his own salvation.  
  
Lightly, Rashid kissed the back of Quatre's head, hoping desperately that the boy be placed in Treize's strategy path the day after tomorrow at the Council of Placement. 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21  
  
"Isn't Abdule coming?" Quatre asked as Rashid propelled the younger boy through the empty camp.  
  
Rashid smiled reassuring down at Quatre. "As I have said, Abdule is already in the Mosque. He and everyone else are awaiting us."  
  
Quatre didn't answer, but Rashid noticed that the boy seemed to drag his feet even more as they neared the holy place of worship.  
  
It had been nearly two weeks since Quatre had been released from the infirmary. The small boy had been steadily gaining strength, and had even begun to accept more flavorful foods into his diet without repercussions. His walk was slow, but Rashid was just grateful the boy had mastered it again, it had taken nearly a week for Quatre to find the strength to walk even short distances, and he was completely willing to carry the boy if he became too tired.  
  
But Quatre wasn't tired now, only afraid. He'd tried to explain that the ceremony was neither dangerous nor scary; but was the ritual all Maguanacs went through to determine their specialties in the ranks. He'd described his own ceremony, and even Abdule had explained his, but Quatre had still seemed terrified until Duo had made a surprise visit.  
  
Sitting in a chair across from Quatre's quietly listening form, Duo explained his ceremony.  
  
"It's like this, plain and simple: Rashid brings you into the ceremony, Ralph brings Trowa. From there everyone gets to stare at you, while Master Habsaba and four other council members--including my Howard--talk about how wonderful it is that we've got two handsome new recruits to bless the ranks- -blah blah blah! Anyway, after that, the council will take you and Trowa into another room where Master Habsaba will ask you a bunch of questions. You answer the questions, the council analyses your answers, and poof! You get an assignment. It was so strange when Heero, Wufei and I all went in and all came back as pilots. Most of us get only one assignment, like Rashid is the General, and Abdule is an engineer, but the three of us all got two separate assignments. I got soldering/piloting and the thieving path. Heero got soldering/piloting and the assassin path. And Wufei got the soldering/piloting and the medicinal path. It surprised a lot of people, but the council is made up of the wisest of us all, and they haven't been wrong yet. I mean I love my placement! Sometimes being in more than one is hard, you have to do twice as much training as everybody else, but since Heero, Wufei and I were all in the same boat, it didn't really mater.  
  
"So stop worrying about it, Q-Baby! Everything's going to be just fine." He'd closed with a wink and ended up staying for supper. Afterwards, Quatre confessed to feeling more comfortable with the entire thing. It didn't escape Rashid's attention that it was Duo who calmed Quatre's nerves, and the seemingly possessed Trowa's words from two weeks ago played once again in his mind.  
  
"You were his best friend, if anyone beside myself could, it would be you."  
  
He'd gone to Habsaba and demanded answers many times, but without fail Habsaba refused to answer. Subtly--so as not to scare the boy--Rashid had tried to question Quatre, but the blond seemed genuinely to have no answers, and on the one occasion he'd pushed too far, Quatre had shrunk away from him in sudden fear, and he'd vowed to keep his interrogations to Habsaba for the time being. He'd attempted to question Trowa once too in the camps, but the boy had been even less responsive than Quatre, and he'd known that would not provide any answers--the taller boy didn't trust him. Questioning Ralph about Trowa had yielded little results, and so Rashid waited, biding his time, knowing that Quatre was at least safe and slowly adapting to the world he now lived in.  
  
Indeed, Quatre was assimilating nicely for a boy with nothing but negative human contact for the last five years. He still refused to be touched by anyone except himself and Abdule--and surprisingly, Duo, Heero, Wufei and Trowa. That revelation had come on one of the first days Quatre had ventured out to the camps alone to get his daily dose of UVB rays from the artificial sun. By then he'd been taking classes for a week, and knew Trowa as well as anyone did; he'd also spent time with the other three boys in their advanced literature classes.  
  
Duo had somehow enticed the boy into one of the shallow pools where the others had been sitting when Quatre had arrived. Quatre later told him it had been the water, the sheer abundance of the commodity he'd been denied for so long, that had prompted his weeping. But the other boys had been terribly worried and had flocked around Quatre, shielding his body from the others in the camp and offering comfort. Rashid had gone looking for his Recruit when he'd seen the boys surrounding Quatre, their hands gently touching him, Trowa's hand running through Quatre's hair.  
  
Quatre's ease with their touches had been proven again over the last week, most recently by a visit from Trowa the day before.  
  
Rashid smiled as he remembered his expression when he'd opened the door to find Trowa standing there nonchalantly. Quatre had asked the boy to come so that Trowa could help him with a set of math problems he couldn't understand. Quatre was still hesitant to appear "stupid" in front of either himself or Abdule, but they were slowly making progress.  
  
During the session, Rashid watched from his perch on the couch as the two sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Neither spoke much--a simple question here, a simple answer there--but Rashid sensed something more happening than a study session. Unconscious of their actions, the two would often find ways to touch each other. He'd noticed it when Quatre had gotten up to offer Trowa a drink only to find that he couldn't reach the glass he wanted. Without a word, Trowa had stood from his seat and gone to assist Quatre; but instead of moving Quatre aside or working around him, Trowa had stood directly behind the boy, raising up to capture the glass, leaning against Quatre's body. Neither seemed to notice the suggestiveness of the action, as if it were commonplace and expected.  
  
Other things, like the brush of a hand, or when Trowa had guided Quatre's pencil with his own hand so that they both traced the letter "K", the letter Quatre had the most trouble with. When Trowa had left, Rashid had question Quatre carefully about whether or not Trowa's touch bothered him. It was then, as Quatre had looked at him bewildered, that he'd learned that Quatre hadn't even noticed the touches. Even with himself, Quatre was always wary of his touch, always afraid--but Trowa hadn't prompted that response, and Rashid found himself more and more concerned about what was going on with his Recruit.  
  
Suddenly, Quatre slowed, and Rashid notice that he was looking at the massive doors of the Mosque to where Trowa was standing, leaning against them, Ralph leaning into him non-threateningly. But the way Quatre watched them, as if something inside of him recognized a familiarity in their stance, in the aloofness of Trowa, or the way Ralph inclined his body towards the boy. Rashid saw the sudden stiffness in Quatre melt away suddenly to be replaced by a soft smile and a quicker pace as they neared his friend.  
  
It wasn't that Quatre didn't like Ralph, but the Recruit was wary of the man. Rashid figured it had something to do with Ralph's size, but he also harbored a secret--that it had something to do with the fact that Trowa was Ralph's Recruit.  
  
Walking carefully, Quatre moved to greet Trowa. Unlike most boys, the two only nodded to each other and shared a soft rounding of the lips before looking in expectation to their Teachers.  
  
Ralph chuckled. "Well Rashid, I suppose that's our cue." At Rashid's nod the two men moved to the great doors and pushed.  
  
* * *  
  
The first thing Trowa noticed when he saw Quatre was the hesitation in the other boy's steps. Those steps had grown bolder as the boy had neared him; but now, as they walked past their fellow Maguanacs, Trowa couldn't help but notice that Quatre teetered with ever step, as if forcing himself to continue. With a thought he barely recognized as his own, Trowa promised to watch the boy carefully, to make sure he made it through this day unharmed.  
  
They were at the end of their walk now, facing the council of elders. Trowa recognized Master Habsaba and Howard, Duo's Teacher. Beyond them, the other three were mysteries. He'd met them of course, Ralph had introduced him to everyone. But Trowa had made it a point of committing to memory only those that seemed to be strong enough to take him down if he decided to run; the three old men before him hadn't even registered.  
  
Suddenly a warm hand descended upon his shoulder, and Trowa fought hard not to wince at the contact. Touch still made him skittish, and it was no wonder; but Ralph had been good to him, and Trowa had learned over the past weeks that his Teacher asked for nothing in return for the kindnesses. That left him in an awkward position of not knowing what to do, and in his defense, he chose to keep his mounting trust in his Teacher a secret.  
  
With a glance of acknowledgement, Trowa turned back to watch as Master Habsaba stood, stepping towards the four of them.  
  
It was Rashid who spoke, and it startled Trowa a little to hear the note of contempt and anger in his voice when he spoke to their leader.  
  
"By our rites and traditions, I, Rashid of the Maguanacs, bring forth to the council of placement, my Recruit, Quatre."  
  
"By our rites and traditions, I, Ralph of the Maguanacs, bring forth to the council of placement, my Recruit, Trowa." Ralph's voice was clear, proud, and Trowa felt the need to please his Teacher course through his veins like some drug.  
  
This need to please someone--a man no less--was so foreign to him. He'd spent much of his young life doing everything in his power not to be noticed by men at all, now to change so drastically, it was odd and a bit frightening to him. But Trowa was a man of reason, after a quick contemplation, he decided it was a mixed up sense of gratitude towards his Teacher for taking him in and being kind to him--nothing more, nothing less. Master Habsaba's voice drew him back to the ceremony taking place around him.  
  
"By our rites and traditions, the Maguanacs are servants of Allah, the great god of Islam. Who among you would die to protect these two who now face placement?"  
  
In a roar that seemed to shake the very ground they stood upon, every single Maguanac in the room, who had once been kneeling now stood and shouted to the heavens.  
  
"I will lay my life down for my brothers!"  
  
He hadn't heard it during the roar of the crowd, but once their fellow soldiers were quiet, he felt it. It was a disturbance on the air, a vibration that waved across the skin of his left shoulder. Turning, he saw what it was and felt a sense of such profound protective need that it overshadowed all others he'd ever had in his entire existence.  
  
Most likely startled by the sound, not to mention the ceremony happening all round him, Quatre had his arms wrapped about himself, his insignificant frame shaking violently in distress. Every fiber of Trowa's body willed his arms to wrap about the boy, but something kept him in his place, some fear of seeming weak in front of those he had catalogued as cause for concern should he try to leave this satellite one day. Guilt suffused him, and Trowa nearly took a step away from the other boy at that thought--he couldn't remember ever feeling guilty because of another, not ever.  
  
But as Trowa watched, Rashid's arm came around the bony shoulders of the blond, and with mixed gratitude and something more sinister, Trowa watched as the smaller boy leaned onto the embrace of comfort and strength. Master Habsaba continued as if nothing had happened.  
  
"By Allah's decree through Aisha, most beloved wife of Mohammed, there are eight paths a Maguanac may take. First is the path of medicine, those among us charged to care for the sick and injured of our brethren. Second is that of the assassin, accurate and cunning, these individuals need but one opportunity to strike and their blows often decide between a short war or an epic. Third is that of Thief, trained to walk in shadows no other man can inhabit, they take what is needed for the betterment of others, working by Allah's hand. Fourth is the path of espionage, those gifted with the ability to blend where others cannot, working against evil by taking a measure of it into themselves. Fifth are the strategists, planners and thinkers, the brightest among us who possess the ability to find the least destructive way to end a conflict. Sixth, are the riders, charged now, not to take up the reigns of old, but to control the powerful Mechas now used in combat, they are the best fighters among us, sworn to protect the Muslim people. Seventh is the General, wise in all areas of war and politics, he is the one among us capable of crushing mountains and offering comfort to those left in the wake of battle. Finally, the eighth and final path is that of Leader, the one chose by Allah to command as He would, to lead with wisdom and faith, with heart and conviction. These are the paths of Allah.  
  
"Before you, my brothers, are two which need placement onto one of these paths. As one now, pray that the council is granted the wisdom to place them on the paths Allah has put them here for. Kneel and pray for Allah's grace."  
  
Behind him, Trowa heard the fall of fabric and limbs that could only mean that the Maguanacs were doing as told, kneeling to pray to some god for wisdom. Trowa didn't place much stock in this Muslim god known as Allah, but he'd fought for less honorable reasons than defending a people, so as long as he was here, he didn't mind lending his weapon to the effort.  
  
Then there was a flurry of movement around him. The council was slowly descending the four steps of the platform, while Ralph and Rashid slowly moved away from the two newest Recruits. He heard Quatre take in a shuddering breath, and he turned his head to see that the boy was still shaking badly. Trowa had it in his mind that the moment they were alone, he'd hold the other boy tightly and never let him go. He didn't allow himself to dwell on that thought.  
  
Suddenly, Howard was before them, smiling kindly. Quietly, he spoke as he ushered them to follow the other council members who were exiting a door to the right of the platform. "OK you two, hard part's over now. Come on, let's move onto the fun stuff." He offered them a wink, and with a shrug of his shoulders, Trowa followed him, careful to make sure Quatre walked in front of him.  
  
As they passed, Trowa turned in time to see Heero offer an encouraging nod from his front row position beside his two lovers. He watched with humor and sadness as Duo offered Quatre a thumb's up that the blond boy did not see because of his fear. It startled him then however, the look Wufei offered him, it beseeched him on a level Trowa didn't understand, to watch out for Quatre, to protect him. He thought about it the entire way across the room and through the doorway.  
  
* * *  
  
As always there were too many. Too many emotions, too many people, too much to take in all at once. He'd sought comfort from Rashid while he could, but now, away from his Teacher, Quatre sought comfort from the only one willing to offer it, Trowa.  
  
The room they entered would have been without a spot of light if not for the hundreds of candles that lit the room in flickering firelight. A stone platform was directly across from the entrance door, and it was to the platform, and the five stone chairs that the council of elders moved to take their places.  
  
On instinct, Quatre followed, coming up to stand next to Trowa before the middle seat, occupied by Master Habsaba. Even though the room was lit by so many candles, the stone walls and floor made the room seem cold and chilled, uncomfortable and confining. The small blond shivered.  
  
He could sense strong emotions from the five council members, most of which was hesitation--and much fear. Were they afraid of Trowa? Quatre didn't know why; but in their seats of power, five men sat afraid, but none more than Master Habsaba and that fact alone frightened Quatre even more than before.  
  
The room was silent for a long time, the hiss and occasional pop of the flames the only orchestra. Duo hadn't mentioned the silence, for that matter, neither had Rashid. But the five stood their ground, almost as if they were expecting Trowa and he to suddenly take direction in this play.  
  
Five minutes, then ten, and still no one spoke or looked even remotely like they were about too. Quatre's shaking had not subsided, and his rising fears about what was happening only spurned the quaking on. He noticed that Trowa too was becoming restless. Quatre knew from their brief discussion the day before that Heero had told Trowa what to expect. They'd swapped stories, and after agreeing that both seemed similar, agreed that Duo and Heero had been telling the truth. But this was nothing like what was supposed to happen, and suddenly the idea that Duo and Heero had tricked them, plotted against them, flashed into Quatre's mind and would not let go.  
  
Beside him, Trowa drew a deep breath, and likewise Quatre followed. But his breath wasn't as even, his draw not as smooth. The combination of his shaking and circumstances forced the hitch that finally ended the standoff.  
  
It was a tiny sob, at least compared to the others he'd uttered since coming to this place, but it was just as frightened and desperate as the others had been. He barely noticed it when it happened, the forceful tug of his arm, the quick stumble of his feet, the instant warmth he felt as the portion of his chest not covered by his vest came into contact with Trowa's flesh. He heard the growl that rumbled deep in Trowa's chest when he closed his eyes, his body finally noting that the fear was gone, replaced by warmth and comfort. His hands moved from their lifeless places at his sides, to rest against two distinct pectoral muscles, the sudden flex of each unnoticed. Blond hair fell against a chest oiled to protect it from the artificial sun, and Quatre inhaled the fragrance of long dead Egyptian gods on Trowa's skin.  
  
He didn't allow himself to think about it, indeed, a different part of his mind seemed to take over, forcing him to lie dormant, to feel these sensations but take no action with them. So he rested, leaning against this boy--who by all rights--was just as broken and evil a child as he was.  
  
* * *  
  
The growl emanated from his throat as he buried his hands deep into course cotton strands that should have been silk. His nostrils flared at the scent of Quatre's body, at the warmth he felt as those too tiny hands fell across his chest. He didn't question what he did as he maneuvered Quatre's lips to rest against his neck, none of it registered because it didn't have to, this was destiny, this was faith and religion all rolled into one moment of his existence. He'd felt this way before, in a dream he'd had off and on since coming to this place, the dream of this sense of rightness, this sense of reward for all that he'd been through in the past. He didn't notice that Quatre fit perfectly against him, didn't notice that Quatre stopped shaking the instant he'd fallen against his chest; none of these things did he notice because they were already known, an instinct older than any Trowa had ever been born with. Quatre always calmed when in his arms, always, ever since.  
  
He sensed the shift the moment it happened, sensed the way Quatre's body seemed to let go of the tension that had coiled inside of him, sensed the now laxed muscles that held up only half of the blonde's weight while Trowa himself held up the rest. Instinctively he knew what was happening, knew that Quatre was silent now and would remain so until the danger had passed, because this time around, Quatre needed him to be stronger--and he would not let his partner down.  
  
His voice was cold and quiet when he spoke, and he watched with satisfaction as the men before him leaned back into their stone thrones in fear of him.  
  
"Speak or hold, either way, in five minutes, we are leaving." His point was made clear when he pulled Quatre even closer to him, felt those tiny fingernails bit lightly into his flesh.  
  
As one, the men looked to Habsaba, but the leader was gone, his eyes vacant as he stared into a spot just between Quatre's shoulder blades. For a long moment their was silence then, until Howard dared to end it.  
  
"Trowa, is Quatre alright?" There was disguised fear in his voice, but no lack of sincerity, which was perhaps why Trowa answered him at all.  
  
"He's fine, just scared. He's listening. This is not like before." Trowa didn't understand the answer he'd just given, but took it as any good answer.  
  
Howard however, didn't. "Which Trowa am I speaking too?"  
  
That earned the Hawaiian shirt-wearing ex-hippie an odd look from Trowa. He had no idea what the old man was talking about. "Which Trowa am I speaking too?" That didn't make any sense, there was only one Trowa in this room, wasn't there?  
  
"What kind of question is that?"  
  
"Nothing!" The answer was given too quickly, too readily, and too big a lie to possibly be true, but now wasn't the time to consider it.  
  
Shrugging his shoulders, Trowa looked at the man pointedly, waiting for the questions Heero told him would be asked. Trowa trusted Heero, he wasn't sure how much just yet, but understood that this was not the typical placement ritual, something had happened and things were going very, very differently.  
  
Howard looked to Habsaba to say something, but upon seeing that the old man was still staring into Quatre's back, he cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. Trowa had to give him credit, the man looked about to have a heart attack, and yet still managed to appear dignified; Trowa respected that a great deal.  
  
"Trowa, normally, the council asks about your past experiences, the skills you've acquired in your life prior to being selected as a Maguanac. From there we then ask what it is you'd be interested in doing, what your likes and dislikes are. After that we congregate and decide which of the eight paths would best suit you. There are many sub-paths to choose from once you are assigned a main path, for example, being a rider does not mean you will fly Mechas, instead you could become an engineer like your fellow Recruit Abdule. Only a select few are choice for the main rolls of each category, the exceptions being that of General and Leader, which are the only specialized paths. Do you understand?" It was a nearly complete boxed speech, and Trowa realized quickly that five years ago, Heero, Duo and Wufei had all heard it the exact same way. It brought a slight smile to Trowa's lips, knowing how stuffy the whole thing had become from the times of.old? Where had that thought come from?  
  
His pause must have been too long as he contemplated his mind's odd mental dialogue. Howard's voice was shaky at best, concerned as well. "Trowa, do you understand?"  
  
Absently he nodded his head. "We both understand." He didn't notice the looks of fearful understanding draw across the faces of four of the five seated men.  
  
"Good. Then, Trowa, what can you tell us of your skills? What did you do before becoming a Maguanac?"  
  
He shrugged, mindful of Quatre in his arms, always mindful of Quatre. "I killed people."  
  
Silenced reigned for nearly a full minute. "W-What else, Trowa?"  
  
He looked up then, his eyes meeting those of his judges. "I just killed. Up close, hand to hand, far away, Mecha to Mecha. I can use any weapon developed After Colony 1, and a good selection of those Before Colony as well. I have murdered men, women and children, and did so without compassion. I feel little to no regret for all save the children, and even with those I understood it was myself or them and I made a decision I would make again. I killed on the battlefield and off, and I am not opposed to doing it again. I am a man of few talents, but those that I possess, I possess fully.  
  
"As to what I want to do.I've never given much thought to it. I'll kill until the day I die, and when I die it will most likely be the effect of someone else's kill. I do however, enjoy Mechas, especially their repair and precision. Beyond that there is nothing useful I can offer. I am a mercenary, I wonder if you fully understood that before accepting me into your peace?"  
  
Silence had yet to be so quiet. It was as if the flames stopped their movements, and lungs stopped their breathing. But against him, Quatre snuggled tighter, and the part of Trowa which was running on instinct, knew that Quatre had sensed his distress and was offering him comfort. Absently, he ran his hands through Quatre's hair, wishing it felt like it used to.  
  
When still the silence continued, Trowa filled it. Why, he did not know.  
  
"Quatre has fewer skills than even I. He's an empath, but untrained, dangerous to himself if the truth be told. But he is a brilliant strategist, adept at all things required to move an army from one position to another. He destroys only when necessary, and does so with grief in his heart. He is loving and kind, compassionate, far beyond that which is healthy. He feels.so much more than Allah ever intended him too." At his last line, Trowa faltered. H-how did he know all that about Quatre? He didn't know that Quatre was a born strategist. He didn't know that Quatre's empathy was dangerous, especially not to the boy himself. He didn't know that Quatre was loving and kind. He had no idea that he felt more than Allah intended him too. And yet, he did. He understood that everything he had just said had been true, how he knew was beyond him, but it mattered little now that it was said.  
  
He didn't dwell on the fact that some ridiculous half answer, as the one he'd just given himself, would never have worked a month ago. He'd changed, but he refused to acknowledge those changes for the time being.  
  
It startled him when Howard didn't ask how he knew all that about Quatre, but he assumed that Duo had told his Teacher that the boys had all started spending some time together, and that that must account for his knowledge.  
  
What did startle him was the soft murmur that came from his neck, the vibrations chasing a chill of something very similar to desire down his spine.  
  
"Thank you, Trowa."  
  
He couldn't help but smile as he used his hands to gently maneuver Quatre's face from his neck so he could see into their blue depths.  
  
"As always, you are welcome, Little One." That earned him a soft smile, and Trowa felt warmth in a part of his heart thought long dead by circumstance and abuse.  
  
But his quick conversation with Quatre pulled his attention away from what was happening around him, and before he had a chance to react, Master Habsaba was tearing down from the stone like chair and past the two embracing figures of himself and Quatre. He watched as Howard and the others called after him, rising from their own chairs and following him back into the main room.  
  
And then, for a moment, he and Quatre were alone. Trowa felt his consciousness shift for a moment, and then he had his head buried in Quatre's neck, the blond--supporting both his own and now Trowa's weights-- carefully running tiny fingers over the back of his neck.  
  
"Quatre?"  
  
"Shhh, Trowa. You did so well. I'm proud of you. Things are happening much faster now, faster than even I thought possible. Already, they understand they can depend on each other in times of distress. Trust in Him a little more, Beloved. Perhaps this will not take the full eleven years as once thought."  
  
His voice caught as he spoke. "It's so hard, Quatre. I feel his fears, he doesn't understand. He fights it, but he's terrified. I-I don't know if he'll be strong enough."  
  
"Oh my love, only time will tell all that. Now we must celebrate the little victories, however small they might be. Come, they have need of us now."  
  
"I love you, Little One."  
  
"And I you, my most precious Trowa."  
  
Then the veil lifted, and with it so too did their positions. His knees locked, and Trowa rose to his full height, towering over the smaller blond. His muscles once again supported the bodies of both his own and Quatre's, only this time, completely, as Quatre's body lost all feeling and sank under the power of oblivion.  
  
With tempered familiarity, Trowa lifted the younger boy into his arms, and carried him carefully into the other room. He heard Habsaba's declaration-- much to the protest of the other council members--as he neared the door with his precious bundle.  
  
".and so my word is law! Trowa shall be placed onto the path of espionage; Quatre, that of strategy; and both will be pilots. SILENCE! Too this end I have also chosen--"  
  
Trowa passed through the doors then, all eyes moving towards him as they saw what he carried in his arms. Absently, he watched Duo as if on mute cry out and race towards him, Heero and Wufei directly behind him. He watched as Ralph too made to move, and saw Rashid and Abdule pull away from the crowd as well.  
  
But, as if all action was stopped by Habsaba's new words, all in the room paused, and like before, it was as if lungs stopped drawing in breath.  
  
".Trowa to be our future General, and Quatre to become our Leader!"  
  
After five seconds of untainted silence, all hell broke loose. 


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22  
  
The fight had been short and bloody. Not one of the villagers had survived, he knew, he'd checked. Men women, children, it hadn't mattered, maybe it still didn't but he felt guilty, and it was something he definitely didn't want to feel.  
  
The victory celebration was winding down, and with its closing he was trying more and more to inch towards the shadows. He'd set his tent up a hundred yards or so from the others, and he was banking on them being too drunk and high to notice where he'd gone.  
  
Alanzo had traded with him, a few food rations for three hits of L-17 Joy; normally the trade would have been ridiculous, but the old man knew how he'd suffer this night if he couldn't get away so he'd done what he could.  
  
It was enough.  
  
The smoke from the razing was still thick in the air, reflecting the floodlights back to the large jeeps armed with machine guns and a few rocket launchers. Burning bodies polluted the air but he ignored it all-- or maybe not ignored, just chose not to think about it. Ash was heavy under his feet, masking the sound of his footfalls as his steel-toed boots navigated what remained of the once peaceful village. The tree line wasn't thick, but he wasn't a very wide person.  
  
When the jeering quieted and the only thing he thought had followed him were the angry souls of the dead, he ducked into the center of a tree whose trunk had split long ago into two separate beings sharing a common beginning and ending.  
  
He felt almost safe surrounded by the wood and scratchy bark. With his back to the makeshift camp, he brought the syringe to up to the moon's light to examine the tube. A few quick flicks of his finger popped the air bubbles that could stop his heart, and with a last desperate sigh, he closed his eyes and inserted the needle into his left arm. The wave of weightlessness fanned out from his arm all the way through his body. Vision black, head fuzzy, the drug raced through his system shutting down everything that wasn't absolutely necessary to keep him alive--and a few that just might have been. But he didn't care. Nothing mattered but this blissful feeling of nothingness, in fact, the madness of the dead spirits floating around him, the hatred for the people he was told to call family, all disappeared in the cloud of nothingness that invaded his senses.  
  
Slowly, under the weight of a dose high enough to damage, but not high enough to kill, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he felt the world shift away as he slipped into oblivion. But at the last moment he did struggle, with everything he was, because as the wave of darkness rose to encompass him, he heard the sound of branches under steel-toed boots, and he knew they were out there looking for him.  
  
Hours or years later, the feeling of his skin ripping told him he was in a lot of trouble. The pain didn't flood his brain though, instead it was more the knowledge of the pain, the understanding that his body was suffering greatly, and under the influence of his own demise, he could do nothing to prevent it.  
  
His body tore the other way and even against the effects of the drug, he felt a twinge of pain. Against his better judgement, against every instinct he possessed, he forced every ounce of strength he had left in a body that felt like led, to open his eyes and see what was happening.  
  
The sight instantly killed his high so that the tearing pain flooded his senses. But by then the pain was too great, his body to drained by it to defend himself.  
  
The man directly above him, holding his shoulders into the dirt and rock of the forest floor laughed down at him; spit spraying across his face. Those beefy fingers dug into his shoulder bones, and he knew they'd bruise later into perfect handprints.  
  
"Estaban, looky here. The bitch finally decided to grace us with his presence."  
  
Head spinning wildly, pain racing across his body, he felt a sudden jab of pain before another face reared into his view. Covered in sweat and the dried blood of those he'd killed that day, Estaban grinned down at him with his nearly toothless smile. "Just relax, bitch, I know you like it rough." And with that, Estaban shifted away before pushing forward again, this time, pulling down to roughly kiss him, savagely biting his lip and drawing blood.  
  
It was then he knew what was happening. Expertly covered panic flooded his body as Estaban pulled away and he got the first look at his surroundings.  
  
They'd brought one of the jeeps after him. The floodlights were aimed right at him, and only Estaban's now wildly pumping body was blocking the full out effects of that light. But around Estaban, he could see the others, each waiting his turn, some patient, others fighting amongst themselves on who'd be next. He saw the flash of metal as two of them drew knives to decide and the sight caused him to close his eyes even as that warm disgusting flood of liquid filled his cavity and Estaban groaned above him.  
  
His face was neutral, but his teeth ground together as the mercenary withdrew, the removal allowing the blood and seamen to ooze from his body. But at the last minute, before the man who'd won the knife fight could take his place, Estaban leaned down and faced him, his head illuminated by the floodlights. His breath was putrid as he breathed down on him.  
  
"Ya can run all you want, hide in all the best places, but we're still gonna find you, and ya wanna know why? Because by the tenth man, we can see the fight die from yer eyes, and that's the greatest part of the fuck. Now be a good boy, and spread yer legs, bitch. Spread'm real wide Trowa, daddy's coming home to play!"  
  
When the next man took his place, Trowa just closed his eyes and let it happen.  
  
"NOOO!"  
  
Arms flailing, feet kicking, eyes wide with terror, Quatre struggled against the blankets and the arms of Rashid and Abdule who flanked him. With a wild swing he managed to slap Abdule who recoiled just enough for Quatre to spring up and try to dive over him. But at the last possible second to freedom, Rashid's arm encircled his waist and pulled him back onto the bed, pressing him into the mattress.  
  
Quatre's mind flashed back to the images of Trowa pressed into the dirt, the feel of that disgusting man bruising his delicate flesh, the putrid taste of the other's mouth against his, and worst of all that searing tearing pain that could only be one thing.  
  
Struggles renewed, Quatre screamed, his fingers shaping into claws as he raked his fingernails down Rashid's arms. He twisted wildly; the fear of the memory, which he knew wasn't his, but might as well have been for the clarity, raced across his mind's eye. He'd felt Trowa's pain, understood his fears and terrors, and they were his now as well. Quatre understood first hand what it felt like to be raped, the pain, the helplessness, and the underlying shame in knowing it was all his fault, he was intimate with those feelings now, and so he struggled harder, needing to be away from them.  
  
"LET GO OF ME!" The sound of his desperate voice bounced around the room, slamming against the walls and filling his ears with his own terror filled voice. It spurned him on, making his escape all the more desperate until his fingers were drawing blood from Rashid's arms in long rows of ripped skin.  
  
Rashid's voice was nearly as horror filled as his own. "Quatre! Quatre you must wake up!"  
  
But the memory of what he'd just seen threatened to overwhelm him again. As his mind darkened for the replay of that horrific scene from Trowa's life, Quatre heard Abdule calling his name in that desperate wail that meant his brother was very afraid.  
  
So Quatre struggled against the memory of the stench of death, against the morbid thoughts of all those dead villagers and the guilt. Rashid's hands against his shoulders spurned another wave of panic though, and he struggled to get away even as he tried to convey what he needed.  
  
"DON'T TOUCH ME! DON'T! LET ME GO, PLEASE LET ME GO!" He struggled for what seemed like forever, his body tiring against the great strength that was his Teacher. "Let me go, please, please, let me go. I don't want too! Let me go!"  
  
The panic of what he'd seen fogged his brain, and Quatre couldn't help but relive that painful tearing sensation that could only be this thing the Maguanacs proclaimed was wonderful, that Allah Himself had designed Quatre and the others for. Against that thought, Quatre moaned, tears leaking from his eyes.  
  
It couldn't be, it wasn't possible. Allah had made him and the others to suffer in such ways to be together. His sobs caught as the remembered pain came again, and even against Rashid's hold, he managed to bring his hands up to his face to cover his eyes. How could this be? How could Allah make them to suffer so much to be together? What he'd experienced was even worse than what the reprogrammer had described, and Quatre's hope-crushed sobs spoke his misery.  
  
"Quatre, Quatre, I know you can hear me. Quatre I need you to answer me. Tell me what has happened, Quatre. No one will harm you, no one will hurt you." Rashid's voice was pitched low and soothing, offering Quatre the window he needed through the pain to see his Teacher.  
  
Breathing hard, muscles tensed and ready to fight with every last ounce of strength he possessed, Quatre allowed himself to calm into that place Trowa had forced his mind and body into; that soulless state where body did not react, but mind continued to function and calculate the pain. Through this, he looked for the answers, needing to find them in the only place they could be.  
  
Desperately, Quatre's eyes searched Rashid's, and his Teacher must have known some great battle was being decided, because he remained silent under Quatre's scrutiny, moving away from his crowding position of holding his Recruit down. Blue eyes searched gray, and through the mental dialogue, Quatre's face slowly became more and more expressive, until the tears were large and heartbreaking as they traveled down the sides of his face to be lost in the down of his hair.  
  
With arms covered in wells of blood that dripped down to his wrist, Rashid brought his fingers up to caress Quatre's face, slightly hurt when Quatre jerked away from his touch.  
  
Quatre felt the rejection through the skin on skin contact, but it couldn't answer the question that banged around in his head, demanding answers that only one of their kind could give. In the last second, Quatre realized Rashid wouldn't know the answer, he'd never been in that kind of position.  
  
Muscles exhausted, but eyes still wide with hidden fear, Quatre turned his head towards Abdule and beseeched his brother with his eyes.  
  
"Quatre, whatever it is, you know I'll help you. You don't have to be afraid, no matter what it is, you know I'll be there for you, always." Abdule shifted forward, about to lay his hand on Quatre's knee, but the very thought of it brought back the feelings and emotions full force, until Quatre had to pull away from them both, shifting into the pillows until his back hit the backboard. "Oh, Quatre."  
  
But he just shook his head, ducking away from Abdule's searching red eyes, and Rashid's worried and helpless look. Neither one looked like the men who had hurt Trowa, neither acted like them either. He knew that Rashid and Abdule were...intimate--the details having just been explained to him though Trowa's desecration. But could that be all there was too it? Was it possible that it was always so horrible? Did men just learn to deal with the pain? Trowa'd felt no pleasure, only that dissecting pain that blackened the vision and made you wish for death. What if that was all he had to look forward to in this new life he'd agreed to live? What if the best he could hope for was to find someone he could love without the physical?  
  
He had to know! He had to find out!  
  
"Abdule," empowered by Quatre's use of his name, Abdule perked up and shifted closer, "is it ever...does it ever not...I just don't understand." His last statement was a wail, and he buried his head against his knees as he pulled them up to his chest. How could he ask such a question? How would he even begin? Through the muffle of his confusion, Quatre could hear Abdule shifting around, debating whether or not to push the issue.  
  
What was he supposed to do? If what Trowa had experienced was real, how could he ever willingly do that? It was a thousand times worse than what the reprogrammer had said, the guilt, the pain, the knowledge that it was all his fault. All his...fault.  
  
Suddenly, Quatre sat up, his eyes seeking and finding Rashid's even as he began to nearly yell his panicked demands. "Trowa! I have to talk to Trowa! Rashid, you have to find him for me, you have to get him and bring him to me! I have to talk to him; he's the only one that can tell me! He's the only one with the answers! Rashid, please, please, I need Trowa!"  
  
Any doubt about his sincerity was immediately vanquished by the crazed look upon him, and Rashid must have understood because he rose immediately and moved to the other room. The indecision was written across Abdule's face but he rose as well, following Rashid into the other room to make the call to Ralph and Trowa.  
  
Breathing hard, Quatre inched his way across the bed, mindful of the scattered sheets and droplets of Rashid's blood. As his feet touched the ground they buckled and he just barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the bed. One hand came up to his eyes and he rubbed them, trying to eliminate the images he'd received. It wasn't supposed to be like that, it couldn't be. Rashid loved Abdule, and vise versa, neither one would ever hurt the other like that, never!  
  
Maybe there was some hidden way to do it, some trick that those bastards hadn't know to making Trowa enjoy it. Maybe it was different when you loved the other person, something like his own empathy that allowed the one on top to pass on the good feelings to the one on the bottom?  
  
Or maybe there wasn't anything? Maybe it was like that every time, and Abdule and Rashid had just learned to ignore the pain? No! That wasn't possible! Quatre stood, the overwhelming need to cover his own bottom nearly a compulsion. No, it wasn't possible to ignore that kind of pain.  
  
He hadn't taken two shaky steps towards the door when the emotions hit him. Half a second later he was across the room, stepping through the doorway and hearing something that threatened to shatter what remained of his sanity.  
  
"Rashid, thank Allah you called. Trowa's run. He left a note thanking me for being kind to him. I don't know where he went. Security teams are looking for him right now, and the whole camp's broken into smaller teams. I searched the tent, but nothing was taken, just the things he came with. I don't know how he's planning on getting off the colony but he's good Rashid, too good, he'll find a way. We have to stop him! I know he's been agitated since the council gave him his placement, and he told me the other day that he thought everyone was watching him. He's not well enough for this, Rashid, we have to find him!" Ralph's face took up the entire screen. Pale and wide eyes, the man looked half crazed to find his Recruit, to find Trowa.  
  
"He ran." Rashid said quietly, his mind working over this new piece of information. "Can you think of any reason he would try to leave, Ralph, any reason at all? You said he seemed agitated about the placement--"  
  
"No," Quatre interrupted, and all eyes focused on him as he entered the room fully. His voice was airy, the sound almost dreamy, and indeed, Quatre suddenly felt half-awake. How he knew he couldn't say, but for some reason, he felt Trowa's emotions very clearly, as if they were a part of his own. "The placement doesn't bother him. That sort of thing would never bother Trowa. It's the eyes the bother him, the eyes that see."  
  
"Eyes that see? Quatre, what do you mean? Did Trowa talk to you? Did he say he was going to try and leave? Quatre you can tell me, I want what's best for him, you know that. He's my Recruit, I'd do anything to make sure he's happy and healthy--"  
  
How he knew, he'd never really know. Suddenly the knowledge was in his head and his voice gave life to it, knowing it was true.  
  
"You...he kissed you. He kissed you and you let him. You were kind and gentle, not like the others. For the first time ever, he wanted it to happen again. You did that." Quatre looked up, the disbelief hanging thick in his voice as he locked eyes with Ralph. "You made him feel something good. It was sweet and kind, and it was so full of promise, promise that there'd be more sweetness, more hope. It didn't hurt like the others--or taste like blood and something long dead.  
  
"But he kissed you, and then the placement came. Three paths, three different ones. And then the eyes started. Everyone looking at him, everyone watching him to find out what was so special about a boy with AIDS and blood on his hands. Eyes in the camps, eyes in the classrooms, eyes in the places where there was no Teacher to protect him." Quatre moved forward, almost stalking Ralph's picture on the vid. "You started this with one kiss, one thing that was good and physical all at the same time. You started it, and now there are others watching him, thinking how sweet he looks, how yummy he could be. Five against one isn't a problem, but ten, ninety-eight, how could he ever hope to escape that many when they come for him?" He shook his head, wanting to shake out the emotions that were flooding his system. Trowa was so afraid, so terrified. He couldn't defend himself on a tiny little colony built for 10,000, he couldn't protect them on a floating hunk of metal in the middle of outer space. He needed to get them to safety--he had to protect them.  
  
Under the onslaught, Quarter's knees once again buckled and he fell to the carpet, unmindful of Abdule as he came to check on him. Hands over his heart, Quatre rocked back and forth, humming lightly to himself. Something about Trowa leaving was so terrifying, so heart stopping that he felt like a part of him was being ripped away the further Trowa got from him. His heart and mind ached, and some distant part of him knew, without a doubt, that should Trowa leave the colony without him, he'd never fully recover.  
  
"Quatre! Quatre! Can you hear me, Quatre?!" It was Rashid, and while the giant's voice was still pitched low, there was a resounding sound of worry that hadn't been there before. The note shocked Quatre enough to look up. In his Teacher's eyes he saw real fear, fear for Quatre and fear that through Trowa, he'd lose Quatre anyway.  
  
Leaning forward, Quatre stopped inches from Rashid's face. "Find him, Rashid. Find him and bring him to me. More than you, more than anyone else, I have to see him. Bring Trowa back to me, Rashid, or there won't be anything for you to come back to at all." The words flew from his heart to his mouth, bypassing his brain all together. But he didn't care what he said anymore, the ache in his heart was growing, and the panic was starting to settle in.  
  
"GO, RASHID!" He suddenly screamed, causing his Teacher to reel backwards. "Take Abdule with you, take them all with you! Find my Trowa, find him and bring him back to me! Everything hinges on his return! Fail to find him, and all will be lost!" His voice cracked, and with a shudder, Quatre collapsed in on himself, shaking violently and rocking back and forth. Trowa couldn't leave him, Trowa couldn't go away without him, he'd die without Trowa!  
  
"Quatre, let me stay with you. Rashid and the others can search for Trowa, but let me stay." The desperation was thick in Abdule's pleading, but his brother's presence was too much.  
  
"No, go with them, Abdule. You know his pain, you've been through it before. You'll be the one to find him, I know you will." And he did. Somehow, Quatre knew Abdule would be the one to find Trowa. "You are in his mind even when you're with Rashid, because you share the same guilt. Find him for me, Abdule, bring him back to your brother, or you will have no brother to come back too."  
  
"Quatre--"  
  
"Abdule," Rashid's voice was full of authority. "Quatre is trying to tell us something, even if he does not know what it is. You are the key to finding Trowa, and for Quatre, we must find him. I do not believe this is a bluff. This has something to do with the strangeness that follows the both of them. We must find Trowa, or as Quatre has said, we will lose the both of them."  
  
With senses that barely felt past the pain of separation, Quatre watched Abdule struggle with what to do, but in the end, he rose, followed by Rashid. The two moved to the door, but Rashid quickly detoured, grabbing a blanket off the sofa and coming back to wrap it about Quatre's shoulders.  
  
"We will find him, Quatre, and I will bring him back to you. I do not understand this strange connection the two of you share, but I know enough to understand that this is Allah's work. Rest now, Quatre, we will bring him back to you."  
  
Without any form of acceptance, Quatre tightened the quilt around his shoulders before tipping onto his side and curling into a tight ball on the floor. He continued to hum, a song he'd heard a very long time ago. He'd been in a hunger dream, when a tall boy had come to him, playing a beautiful flute. This was the song he'd played to ease his hunger, and while he'd forgotten it a long time ago, the notes drifted into his brain exactly when he needed them. 


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Distantly, Quatre heard the front door close and the vid com connection end as the others left him where he lay; afraid to speak to him and just as afraid to move him. In their absence, his mind raced with the possibilities.

Trowa could have gotten a hold of a mobile suit and flown away. He knew from piloting classes that Trowa was an excellent pilot. Perhaps he stole aboard the cargo ship that docked last night and left three hours later. Or maybe he was hiding, waiting for the perfect opportunity to leave with everything he needed. Yes, that was more Trowa's style, he wouldn't just leave, ignoring what he needed to make that escape. Trowa was thorough and meticulous; he'd have gathered everything he needed before even thinking of leaving.

But Ralph had said that Trowa hadn't taken anything but what he'd been brought aboard with. Maybe from the tent, but Quatre didn't think Trowa would just abandon his medical regime. That meant that Trowa had to at least make a stop at the infirmary. He would have taken the medicine he needed to finish up his treatments, maybe even a few of the more potent drugs for trade. He wouldn't start taking drugs again; Trowa only did that to…he wouldn't do it again.

What else? Slowly, Quatre sat up and crawled across the floor until his back was pressed up against the side of the chair Rashid preferred.

Food, Trowa wouldn't leave without enough food to get him where he hoped to go. That meant he'd either been stock piling it for the last few weeks, or he'd raided the stores. Most likely he'd raided the stores. If Trowa thought that people were watching him, he never would have risked them seeing the preparations for his planned escape; too risky. So he'd probably taken from the supply shipment last night. Most likely he'd taken it before anyone noticed, and the workers had just assumed they'd forgotten something and resent for it. No one would think a fellow Maguanac would steal from freely shared supplies.

What about clothing? Trowa had the clothes on his back, but Quatre knew from experience that space was a cold unforgiving climate. He would have needed warm clothes for the times behind the sun, and cool clothes for his times in front of it. An unshielded shuttle could have taken weeks to make the journey back to Earth or the Moon colony, in that time the temperature change would have been across the board hourly. But where could he have gotten the clothes?

Not clothes, in the plural form, just one very special piece of clothing, a flight suit. Trowa must have taken his flight suit from class. Quatre remembered Abdule saying that the flight suits were all going to be washed and repaired for next week's survival training in the forests of the colony. And now that he thought about it, Trowa had offered to help Duo carry the clothing down to the machines. Trowa must have taken the flight suit then, either putting it on under his own clothes or hiding it somewhere he could get at it before he made his exit.

All the essentials, food, clothing, medicine and money. There was only one other thing Trowa couldn't leave the colony without, one thing more valuable than the rest.

Closing his eyes, Quatre took a deep breath before opening them and standing up. The quilt fell from his shoulders, but he took no notice; instead he moved across the sitting room and paused in front of his bedroom door.

The one thing, Trowa couldn't leave without.

The one thing he couldn't live without.

Moving forward, Quatre triggered the door and stepped through.

Standing on the other side of the bed, his manner calm, his body relaxed, was Trowa. By the edge of the bed, resting on the floor was a knapsack, and Quatre knew the medicine and food was inside, enough for two people to escape the eyes that followed them everywhere. On Trowa's person was a flight suit of deep green with red and blue strips up the sides, but on the bed was a smaller suit, one done in dark navy blue with gold and white stripes--Quatre's suit from practice.

Calmly, Trowa sat down on the bed and with no other invitation; Quatre moved around and sat beside him, only the flight suit between them.

Trowa was the first to speak.

"I'm leaving."

Quatre nodded. "I know."

"You have to come with me."

Raising his head, Quatre looked deeply into Trowa's eyes. Beneath the calm that blanketed all of Trowa's emotions, Quatre could sense the panic this conversation was causing him. Trowa knew that time was of the essence, he knew that the seconds he took to convince his friend were only increasing their chances of getting caught and decreasing their ability to make a clean get away.

What Quatre saw brought a light smile to his face, but the gesture stunned Trowa, who backed up as if slapped. Shaking his head, Quatre retained the smile as he reached out to gently touch Trowa's hand.

Again that strange calm settled over him, leaving Quatre to feel as if in a light dream. "You know we can't go, Trowa. We have so much left to do here before we can rest."

Then the dreaminess lifted and Quatre continued with what he was going to say. "I know you're scared. I know what you dream about, because I dream about it as well. I understand how the eyes follow you, because they follow me through you. But Ralph needs you, just as much as Rashid needs me."

But Trowa shook his head and stood. For a moment he just looked down at the bag he'd packed, but then he began pacing, back and for across the carpet.

"I can't, Quatre, I can't do it. I know what they're thinking when they look at me, I've seen it before."

Quatre nodded again. "I know. I've seen that look before too."

Trowa stopped. "What do you mean?"

Closing his eyes, Quatre spoke without looking up. "Last night I had a dream." He paused as he felt the bed dip--Trowa had moved next to him.

"What did you dream about?"

Sighing, Quatre started again. "The dream…it was you."

The question was clear in Trowa's voice. "What do you mean it was me?"

Looking up, blue mingled with green. "In the dream, it was night, and I was you. There'd been a raid on a village, I don't really understand what happened, but I knew everyone was dead, and you…you felt guilty about it." Eyelids closed over green as Trowa rose and moved to lean against the wall. "There was a man, someone you remembered but I never saw. He'd given you some kind of drug and you took it away from the others. But--but they found you, and--"

"Don't. I know what you're talking about." Trowa's voice was thick and his shoulders tense as he turned around. "But how did you know? I thought empaths could feel emotions, not experience dreams."

Once again, Quatre ducked away from what his mind told him was an accusation, even as his heart told him Trowa meant no harm. "I've never had this happen to me before. I didn't even know I could do it. But, Trowa, I--" he paused, not daring to make eye contact with his friend, but not allowing himself to back down. "Trowa, you, you have to tell me…please, it isn't always, I mean, it, it doesn't always…"

From across the room came Trowa's defeated voice. "Always."

NO! That couldn't be!

Jumping to his feet, Quatre moved quickly to stand before Trowa. "But it can't be, Trowa, it can't! I, I know Rashid and Abdule…do that…but I never sense that kind of pain from either one of them. They, they're usually very happy and cuddly afterwards. And, and there's this flash, I don't know how to describe it, but it's not bad, Trowa, it isn't!"

Trowa shook his head. "It's always bad, Quatre. Not one time was it ever good. I hated it, every time…every time it happened, I hated it. Eyes would follow me across the camp. Then, at night--it was always night--they'd come for me. Sometimes it'd just be a few, too drunk or stoned to do much of anything and I could get away. But on the bad nights, the ones that…that I wished never happened, they wouldn't be drunk enough, or they'd come in groups. Up to five I could take on my own, ten was an impossible number."

Closing his eyes tightly, Trowa turned his back to the wall and slid down it, allowing his knees to press against his chest; and Quatre followed him until they were both huddled against each other and the wall.

Quatre spoke next. "It was like I was you. I could feel everything you felt. I was so afraid, but I couldn't show it. And it hurt, god Trowa, it hurt so badly." A long gangly arm came around his shoulders, and Quatre allowed Trowa to pull him close against his chest, barely noticing the contact but recognizing the comfort. "I've never felt any emotion so strongly. I wanted to cry and I couldn't, I wanted to scream and I couldn't, I wanted to kill them, but…but I knew they'd kill me first.

"How did you do it? How did you go on with all that pain?"

Gentle fingers brushed the blond locks from around Quatre's temple. "Sometimes I don't think I did. I dream about it all the time and it's like I'm locked in and I can't get out. Even being here hasn't helped, and since our placements, it's like I can't escape." Then Trowa stiffened and Quatre pulled back from the warm embrace to look up at his friend.

"A few days before our placement, that day I was late to meet you and the others in the camp, Ralph and I were cleaning the dishes from lunch. I, I dropped one of the dishes and it broke. The strange thing was, I wasn't scared. I knew Ralph wouldn't yell at me, I knew he'd just come over to make sure I was all right and then help me clean up the mess. I even knew that if I'd cut myself, he wouldn't think twice about the viruses running through my body, he'd have just cleaned me up and moved on without even thinking about himself.

"I panicked." Trowa grew quiet for a moment before continuing. "Ralph is the first decent person I've ever met, the first guy to actually care about me and try to protect me. It scares me…a lot. So when he came over to check on me, I backed away from him. You should have seen his face, Quatre. He was hurt, actually hurt that I'd backed away from him. And the damnedest thing happened, I walked back to him and…I sat down next to him, and just leaned against his shoulder." Trowa shook his head at the memory. "And it felt good, it felt warm and safe and good. I…I snuggled against him and…I cried. I can't remember the last time I've cried. I learned a long time ago it didn't help."

Moved by Trowa's words, Quatre's hand came up to brush the bangs that had fallen into Trowa's eyes, and he smiled when Trowa nuzzled that hand unconsciously. "Why did you cry, Trowa?"

"I don't know. It just happened all of a sudden, and once it started I couldn't make it stop. I tried, but no matter how hard I tried, the tears just kept coming, and Ralph, he was so kind to me, Quatre. He held me and rocked me a little, and didn't ask me what was wrong, it was like he knew, like he understood I just needed it to be silent."

For a moment there was silence in the bedroom. Trowa's fingers continued to work through Quatre's hair, while Quatre's fingers idly traced the edge of Trowa's flight jacket zipper.

Then Trowa continued.

"When I stopped crying, I was so tired. It was like I couldn't move, but Ralph, it was like he could read my mind. He's so strong, Quatre. He brushed the tears from my face and pushed back my bangs, and then lifted me up and took me back to the sleeping rolls." Trowa hesitated here, glancing first at Quatre before deciding to continue.

"Nothing like it has ever happened to me. He was so gentle. He kept running his fingers through my hair, and it felt so good, so comfortable. I didn't want him to stop, and at the same time I wanted him to go away so the confusion would stop. But he did something then. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. That was the first kiss I'd ever gotten that didn't hurt…or, or worse. And Ralph just sat with me and I knew he was watching me trying to figure out what to do.

"I wanted to tell him how he was making me feel, I wanted to but I didn't know how. There weren't any words, no way to explain it to him. I don't know what came over me then, but I sat up, and…and I just, just--"

"Kissed him."

Eyes wide, Trowa pulled back to look at Quatre. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "You wanted to show him how you felt but didn't have the words, which means you'd show him in actions. Was it a good kiss?" His explanation was full of self-confidence, his question was not.

For a long time Trowa said and did nothing but stare at him with those stunned eyes. When he finally spoke, Quatre knew he'd collected his thoughts.

"It was the most perfect thing I've ever felt. It was better than the kiss you told me about with Abdule, but it was different. This one lasted longer, and it felt…deeper than the one you described. I knew Ralph wasn't sharing me with anyone else, and…that made it warmer somehow.

"I didn't want it to end, so when he pulled away, I, I reached for him. It's the first time I've ever wanted to kiss someone. I, I can't really explain it."

"No, I understand. I can feel how you felt about it, and even if I've never experienced it before, I know how much it meant to you." And he did. Through his empathy, Quatre could feel the shear joy Ralph's wanted touch had brought Trowa, along with the terror he'd felt at needing such a thing. "Is that why you want to leave, Trowa, because of that kiss?"

Trowa shook his head. "I wanted it to last, and when it was over, I wanted it to happen again. Ralph is strong, Quatre, stronger than the men I traveled with, and he tells me every day that I don't have to be afraid of him, and I'm starting to believe him. I don't think Ralph would hurt me, I really don't think he'd ever…force himself on me. I want to believe that, but I can't take the risk, not for myself, and not for you."

Trowa shifted then and tugged Quatre around to face him. "I don't know if it's dangerous here or not, but we can't take that chance. I've packed enough for the both of us and I have a plan on how to get us out of here. We have to leave tonight and it won't be easy, but I'll take care of you, Quatre, I'll make sure that we both make it, either to a colony or Earth."

The light in Trowa's eyes was bright as he stared intently at him. There was no doubt in Trowa's mind that this was the right course of action. He couldn't protect them here, but somewhere else, away from these new unknown feelings, Trowa stood a chance to care for them both.

Tipping his head slightly, Quatre leaned against Trowa's shoulder and breathed in the contentment he felt. "It'd be so easy to leave, Trowa. I've never even seen the world. I was too young to remember it before the gene was discovered. By the time I was old enough to remember, I was locked up or on the satellite. Seeing the world with you, free of worries, I'd give almost anything to do that. But Trowa, I'm not ready yet, and I don't think you are either." Trowa just stared at him. "I mean, neither one of us is well--"

"I brought the medicine Wufei was giving us. I've been paying attention and I know how much we both need." Trowa interrupted.

"Trowa, it's not just that. We'd be all alone--"

Completely out of character, Trowa almost jumped to answer that objection. "We'd have each other, Quatre. I'd protect you, no one would ever touch you, never!"

"That's not what I mean, I know you wouldn't let anyone hurt us. I trust you with my life, Trowa. But there's so much left here to learn, to experience. Ralph," and Trowa pulled back as if struck. "Trowa, Ralph cares about you, just like Rashid cares about me. I don't know how it's going to work. With Rashid and Abdule, I sometimes feel like all three of us are in competition against one another for the others attention; and I know that your feelings for Ralph make you nervous. But maybe it's good to feel like that, maybe that's how you know it's something worth fighting for." As Trowa looked up, Quatre captured his eyes.

"I know it scares you, it scares me too. I don't know why Rashid and the others keep going to all those meetings about our placements, or why Master Habsaba won't listen to us when we tell him we're not cut out to be the future Leader or General of the Maguanacs, but there's a reason Trowa, even if we can't figure it out on our own. I, I think we need to stick it out; need to give it more time. Duo said that no one's ever been given three placements before, but, but I'd rather have those placements than leave. I like Rashid and Abdule, they, they're family to me. You, Duo, Heero, Wufei, you all mean so much to me. I never thought anyone would feel this way to me. And I know you care about me back, and that…it scares me sometimes, but it's a good fear, Trowa--this kind of fear, I'm willing to try to overcome."

For a moment, Trowa looked as if he was going to protest, find another reason why they had to leave and start over, but oddly, that half crazed glimmer in his eyes slowly dimmed and went out. He seemed calmer when he finally spoke.

"What if I can't? What if I give it my best and I still can't do it? When Ralph touches me, I feel happy, Quatre, and I think…I think I might someday want him to…to do more than just kiss me. But I swore I'd never let anyone do that to me again. I don't know if I can do this, Quatre, I just don't think I can."

A pained smile came to Quatre's face then as he tipped Trowa's head from his chest. "Trowa, maybe the question we should be asking ourselves isn't, can we do it, but, do we want to try? Maybe this time, the return is worth the risks, even if they are life and death ones."

Eyes wide, Trowa looked fairly stunned. To Quatre, the dilemma was suddenly much simpler. He wanted things to go well, he wanted the feelings Trowa had felt with his first good kiss. That didn't mean he wasn't scared, it didn't mean the nightmares and the doubts wouldn't come, but he could handle them. He'd been through worse, maybe the worst life could offer, just as Trowa had; maybe Aisha's chapter was right, maybe the suffering of their pasts' were over, and this was their just rewards.

"I don't want to go with you, Trowa, I want to stay here. But, but if you still want to go, I won't let you leave without me. We'll go together, and we'll make it together, but…I want to stay here. I like it here."

Trowa was about to say something when the door slid open and Abdule came barreling through followed by Rashid and Ralph. At the sight of the intruders, both Recruits stood, Trowa stepping just slightly in front of Quatre.

Ralph took one long look at Trowa, and the Recruits watched as the tears gathered to cast a watery sheen to his eyes. "Trowa, I know you're upset and scared, but we can talk about this. Running away isn't the answer. No one wants to hurt you, least of all me. I know the time after your placement has been hard on you, but we can get through it together.

"I also know that," Ralph looked at the others in the room, debating whether or not to continue. "I know that the kiss we shared upset you. We moved too fast and--"

Bravely, Trowa interrupted. "It wasn't," he paused when the occupants all stared at him, and Quatre moved his hand up to press gently into his lower spine. "It wasn't the kiss," he continued. "I, I," he turned back around to look at Quatre who offered him an encouraging nod. Ducking his head, Trowa turned away as he offered his confession. "I liked it. I didn't want to--I still don't--but…I, I think I want it to happen again. Later!" Panic entered Trowa's voice, and like a scared colt he backed away, pushing Quatre's lighter frame against the wall in his retreat. "Not now, not for a long time…or later…maybe never, but it wasn't, I mean, I didn't…" He broke off, confused and worried that he'd said too much.

But like all great Teachers, Ralph understood. "I knew you'd been spooked, Trowa. I was a little surprised when you did kiss me, but I thought it was nice. I knew it scared you, but I didn't know it had scared you this much. I wish you'd told me, or even one of the others. We could have figured this all out together, Trowa, before you had to hurt so much to try and leave. But now we know, and we'll figure it all out together, if you'll try and trust me." And to prove his point, Ralph extended his hand to his Recruit, offering Trowa a way to accept the help he both wanted and detested.

In the end, it was Quatre's words that decided it all, and as he spoke, the others turned to him, and Trowa's eyes became gentle at the sound of his voice. "Thank you for coming for me, Trowa. It means more than you know that you'd try and protect me. No one has ever tried to do that for me before, you're the very first, and I won't ever forget it. But we have lives to live here, and, and I want to try and live them." He caught Trowa's eyes then, holding them solidly. "Don't you, Trowa?"

Ten minutes later, Trowa and Ralph had left to return to their tent to talk, leaving with Trowa tucked safely under Ralph's arm, and just slightly leaning into his gigantic frame. Abdule was sent back to the camps to call off the searches, and Rashid was very carefully drying Quatre's hair after his shower.

Under the gentle ministrations of the towel through his hair, Quatre looked up at Rashid, occasionally closing his eyes to avoid the coarse material of his hair and the towel. Rashid's skin was flushed from the heat of the bathroom, and his arms and torso were tracked with scabs and welts Quatre knew he'd caused. Just inches from his bare chest, Quatre tried in vain not to bump against the massive expanse as Rashid massaged the moisture from his locks.

They were silent for a long time, long enough for Quatre to dress and move into the bedroom while Rashid obtained a hairbrush and sat behind him on the bed. But the nagging feelings inside of him forced him to turn and look hard into the eyes of his Teacher.

For a long time Quatre continued his quiet inquiry, until after a fashion, he found what he was searching for. Moving slowly, conscious of his every move, Quatre shifted his whole body forward, and gently rested his head against Rashid's chest. When those strong warm arms came up around him, Quatre closed his eyes and began.

"I dreamed I was Trowa. I felt everything he felt. He'd helped kill a village full of people, but the guilt was driving him insane. I experienced the drugs Trowa took to get away from the guilt, and I was there when they wore off the moment those bastards found him." He paused, lifting his hands up and digging his fingers into Rashid's back. "They raped him, Rashid, and it was a thousand times more awful than the reprogrammer ever told me it would be. There was so much…so much pain, and I couldn't escape, couldn't get away. But Trowa didn't even fight, Rashid, he just accepted it, even when the pain…when it hurt so bad that he just turned his mind off. He knew he couldn't win, so he let it happen.

"I…I asked him if it always felt like that, if sex always hurt so badly." He paused gathering his thoughts. "Trowa said it did, Rashid, he said it always hurts like that. But, but if it does, if it's so painful, why would anyone do it, why? Why do you and Abdule, Treize and Zechs, why; I don't understand?"

He was embarrassed and scared, and pulled himself even more tightly against his Teacher's bare chest to hide from those eyes that would expose him. He knew he was missing something, what it was he wasn't sure, but he knew Rashid would tell him.

Strong arms shifting to Quatre's seat and pulling him into Rashid's lap; from there they returned to Quatre's back, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. His voice was sure, but soft as he corrected the misconception so brutally forced upon his Recruit.

"You must try to understand, Quatre, what was done to Trowa was a horrible act of violence. The men that hurt him cared nothing for his comfort or his pleasure, seeking only to fulfill their own needs. It is never like that with people that love you. There are ways to eliminate the pain, steps that should have been taken to ensure Trowa's care. He answered you the best he could, for him there is no other way, but I promise you, Quatre, when the time comes, I will show you that it is not a thing to be feared, but an experience to reap vast amounts of love, joy, and pleasure from."

Brow furrowed, Quatre leaned back, once again studying Rashid's face. What he saw brought a light dusting of pink to his cheeks, and Quatre shifted his eyes once again. "I know Aisha's chapter says that…that you'll be the one to…initiate me. But…it frightens me. All I know is that it's horrible, Rashid; from the reprogrammer, and from Trowa. Sometimes I don't even believe that you won't send me back to my father if I do something wrong, no matter how many times you tell me. How will I ever…I mean, what if I can't ever trust you enough to…Rashid, what if I'm never even as brave as Trowa, what if I can't even kiss you!" Desperation entered Quatre's voice, and his eyes flooded with the tears of frustration he'd been holding back in Trowa's presence.

Disgusted with himself, he violently swiped at the offensive tears, determined not to show so much weakness.

But Rashid's grip was gentle when he caught Quatre's wrists. His thick thumbs glided lightly across the backs of Quatre's hands while Rashid nuzzled his temple, brushing a light kiss there.

"When it is time to happen, Quatre, it will happen. I feel no need to rush it and neither should you. Allah will guide our actions, you just need to trust in him."

Quatre shook his head, the tears burning the back of his throat. "But Rashid, what if it never happens. What if--"

"Quatre, there is no need to worry so. Time will show you--"

"What if I don't have the time!" Stunned by his words, Quatre reeled back at his own statement, startled and fearful that his words might prove prophetic.

Rashid felt the same way. His hands moved to grip Quatre's arms tightly. "Why would you say that, Quatre? What would make you say such a thing?"

A thousand answers flashed through Quatre's mind. A million reasons why his words might prove truer than he'd ever feared. But in the end, the mysterious reasons were enough to make up his mind.

Shifting on his knees, Quatre rose up, bringing his hands up to brush against Rashid's cheek.

"Quatre?"

But Quatre just shook his head. Now wasn't time to talk, it was time for action. His eyes searched Rashid's once again. He needed to find something, that one thing that would settle the butterflies in his stomach and the emptiness he feared would takeover his life. Trowa had found a part of it, but he was still stumbling; Quatre on the other hand, still hadn't reached for it.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he did so. He wanted to be warm, to feel the way Trowa had felt, and in the absence of that safe feeling he always felt when with his friend, he found the need to find the warmth in Rashid.

He could do this, he wanted too.

Shifting forward, he angled his mouth to slant across Rashid's just as he'd seen countless times on the vid.

But at the last moment, Rashid pulled back, moving dramatically to the left and cuddling Quatre against his chest.

For a moment he struggled, trying in vain to escape from his Teacher's powerful grip, but the struggle was short lived and soon Quatre just allowed himself to be held. And surprisingly, the warmth he'd wanted so badly was there. Wrapped in his Teacher's arms, comfortable in a touch that he absolutely wanted to be in, Quatre felt all the emotions he'd felt from Trowa's memories of that first good kiss.

And then it dawned on him. He didn't need to rush a kiss, or force a sexual encounter, Rashid was showing him that what he needed came in small increments, and the warmth was just as soothing.

After a while, Rashid's soft voice drifted down to him. "Feeling better?"

Quatre nodded but remained silent. Breathing deeply, Quatre relaxed completely, snuggling against Rashid. With a comforting squeeze from his Teacher, Quatre allowed the exhaustion to overtake him, as he basked in the needed embrace of his Teacher.

For the first time in his life, both Quatre's body and his mind were warm.

When Abdule returned from the camps the two tucked the young man into bed and for the rest of the night, the two watched over Quatre. Sometimes touching his hair, other times, just allowing themselves to be close to him while looking at each other with the knowledge that they had weathered one more storm, together.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The next few days were good ones for Quatre. A weight that seemed to have been pressing down on him for weeks was considerably lighter. School was easier, and working with Trowa afforded them both the time to talk and regain a little of their shaky self-confidence before facing the other Recruits and their Teachers on a daily basis.

Letters were coming easier now, and he'd even managed to write the entire alphabet from start to finish with only three mistakes. Math was a little more frustrating, but he was working with Trowa daily, and Quatre was fairly certain he'd finally caught on to the idea of the number zero--though he wasn't going to test his theory with Auda just yet.

His college courses were in a word--FUN! He'd never imagined there was so much out there to learn, and his literature class was nearly the best part of his day. School with Duo was another favorite, and Quatre was quickly warming up to the point where he could even crack a smile at some of the jokes Duo told; at least those he understood.

Wufei was even growing on him. The young doctor had taken to administering a low dose of surface numbing agent to the bottoms of Quatre's feet, enabling him to spend more time on them with less pain. The gesture had touched something in Quatre, and Wufei was often gifted with the first nod of the day. Quatre knew it wasn't much, but he also knew Wufei took it for what it was and was grateful all the same.

Heero was another story. Quatre was still wary of the silent warrior, though Duo insisted that Heero was a big pussycat, even going so far as to try to make him purr once by scratching him behind the ear. Heero had pulled a gun and then kissed his wayward partner silly before class started. Quatre easily sensed the underlying turbulent wave of violence Heero possessed, but he also sensed the layer of calm that kept that violence in check. Heero was no ticking time bomb; he was perhaps the most stable of them all--a mountain containing the force of a volcano that could direct the flow of destruction.

Mostly however, Heero took classes with Trowa and Wufei, while Duo and Quatre ended up in the same classes. It wasn't much fun being split from everyone, but since Quatre got to see them all at some point during the day, he felt satisfied. The fact of the mater was, he was getting to the point where he wanted to see the others. He looked forward to finishing breakfast in the morning and joining Trowa for reading, writing and math lessons. Then he bid Trowa farewell for a few hours while he went to class with Duo and Wufei. Later all five joined back together for weapons training, and then every other day they did flight simulations.

Weapons training was easily Quatre's worst class, even compared to math. His arms simply could not support the weight of the swords Zechs was training him with. Wufei, the brightest in the class when it came to melee weapons was often singled out to help Quatre, and it would have been utterly embarrassing if Wufei didn't treat him like he was an insolent child.

"Keep your head up, Quatre, how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Left foot! Left!"

"If you're going to drop the sword every time I hit it, you're not going to get anywhere."

"You're worse than a girl!"

For some reason, the fact that Wufei was not trying to coddle him was comforting, and even though some of the things he said made color rise in Quatre's cheeks, Quatre still felt reaffirmed. Duo often told Wufei to lighten up, but Quatre was grateful he didn't, it made him feel more a part of the group--less like a burden.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was flight training. To say he excelled would have been an understatement. Quatre was quick and agile in the Mecha simulators, and could easily run circles around Wufei and Duo. Trowa gave him a run for his money, but the taller pilot had a tendency to rely on ammunition more than maneuverability, and quickly found himself out of ammunition during combat training. Heero was the only one Quatre couldn't touch, but it worked as a bonding time for them as they both struggled to best the other. Heero always won, but Quatre felt no small measure of satisfaction when Heero stumbled out of the simulator covered in sweat.

Life was working out well for Quatre, no matter which way he looked at it. Nodding to himself, Quatre moved to the steam fogged mirror and used the towel to clear a circle. He looked down at his stomach and smiled. Abdule said he was gaining weight. His ribs weren't quite as visible anymore, and his skin wasn't quite so pale thanks to the time he spent everyday in the sun.

Glancing up, he studied his face. Smiling was still something he rarely did, though with Duo and Abdule he was finding it easier and easier to accomplish. Tipping his head to the right, he flexed his facial muscles and smiled, noting with consternation that his mouth remained closed when he did so. Duo almost always showed his teeth when he smiled. Quatre tried to copy and was startled by the change it made in his appearance. He looked less unhealthy this way, more like Duo even; even a little happy himself, though the gesture did not meet his eyes.

Shaking his head, the smile disappeared and Quatre slowly began to towel off his hair. It was getting long, he thought, as he brushed it out, careful to get his bangs going in the right direction, lest they stick up everywhere. The towel did a quick surface scrub of his body before he hung it back up on the rack next to Abdule's. He found the pants and vest Abdule had left out for him, and tried hard not to grimace at the colors--dark blue and light pink. Sometimes those eyes of Abdule's were more a hindrance than a help.

Scratching a light itch on his shoulder Quatre stepped out of the bathroom and into the cool air of the bedroom. He could smell eggs and steak cooking for Rashid, and felt his stomach rumble with the prospects of food. With a few short steps he was in the living room, his head inclined towards the kitchen.

Duo was sitting at the table, a huge smile on his face.

"Geesh Quatre, what are you doing in there, washing an elephant! You took forever!"

"Hot water can be a luxury." Came a monotone reply from in front of Quatre, and he turned his head to see Heero, Wufei, and Trowa sitting on the couch. One by one, the three nodded to him, and a bit shakily, he returned the gesture.

"Quatre, come eat your breakfast. The others want to show you something today, and you'll need a full stomach for it." Abdule smiled at him, pushing a small portion of Rashid's eggs and steak onto a plate, Quatre's customary shake already in his place. They were trying more solid foods now, and though they usually didn't agree with him, Quatre was grateful for their substance.

Hesitantly, Quatre took a step towards the table and nodded. What could the others want to do today? They hadn't made any plans, and since it was Friday, there were no classes; by the holy law it was a day of rest.

Sitting down across from Duo, Quatre began to meticulously cut the four strips of steak into little bit size pieces. The room was silent as his fork and knife worked. Finally, as he was about to begin on the last piece, another fork suddenly materialized before his eyes and snatched the slice away. Looking up, he watched Duo eat it, an evil grin on his face. Quatre watched enviously as he chewed the meat and swallowed.

"If I let you cut it up and eat it, we'd be here all day. Now hurry up, we've got somewhere to be."

Abdule threw a rag at Duo, the cotton folding over the brunet's head. "Leave him alone Duo, let him eat. Quatre," he said, turning his eyes to his fellow Recruit, "You're going to have a blast, so just eat up, and I'll make the five of you some lunch to take with you."

That statement caused Duo to spin around in his chair, but it was Heero who spoke. "Really?"

Abdule just nodded and set to work, but Quatre could tell that Heero and the others were very pleased with the idea of an Abdule homemade lunch.

Twenty minutes later, and one changed vest courtesy of Duo's invasion of Quatre's limited closet--the five of them were making their way to the south end of the satellite. Heero was carrying Abdule's lunch, and was steadfastly guarding it from Duo's sneaky hands; though Quatre noted with a smile that the braided boy did manage to somehow steal a few of the dates.

Turning his head, Quatre looked back at Trowa and Wufei, who were talking quietly and walking a few steps behind them. The talk didn't seem particularly intense, but Quatre sensed there was a very important discussion going on back there. He considered slowing down to let them catch up with him, but thought it was too deliberate and instead continued to walk alongside Duo and Heero.

He was a bit startled when Duo seemed to take his hand, but when he looked down and saw the date, he couldn't help but smile shyly and lift his eyes in a silent thank you as he placed the sugared sweet into his mouth.

"You're probably wondering where we're going, aren't you?" Duo finally asked as they entered one of the darker corridors outside the main complex. The air was cooler here, and Quatre got the impression of the wide expanse of space not far from them.

At his nod, Duo continued. "Well, the colony is built for ten thousand, but the main complex covers an area built for about a thousand. So you have to ask yourself, where's the rest of the space? Well, we're gonna show you and Trowa today, isn't that right, Wufei?"

Quatre turned and watched Wufei nod. "The living part of the colony is actually situated in the middle of the station itself. Surrounding the living quarters the colony is sectioned into four parts, each with it's own form of climate control. To the north--"

Heero interrupted, a broad and uncharacteristic smile on his face. "Let's not spoil it for them. I want to see Trowa's face when we get there."

Surprised, Quatre stared at him, but Wufei only chuckled behind, and Duo latched onto Heero's arm and kissed him soundly as they continued their walk.

Twenty minutes later, they took a break, and Quatre sat down against the metal wall breathing deeply. He'd been working out everyday, but he'd never walked so much. Trowa moved to sit next to him, and Quatre gifted him with a rare smile as Wufei crouched down in front of him, the hyperspray in his hand.

"Please remove your shoes, Quatre."

He nodded, delicately removing the sandals he now wore daily. One of the men had made them for him, and they contained extra padding on the inside to make walking easier.

He felt Trowa shift a little closer to him when Wufei began to lightly spray the soles of his feet, and as Quatre curled his fingers against the near painful tickling sensation, he made eye contact with his friend to let him know he was alright. Trowa offered a silent nod before glancing over Wufei's should to watch Duo and Heero necking.

When Wufei was finished and had moved away, Trowa whispered, "Sometimes I think it can't be as bad as I think. Look at Heero and Duo. Heero would never hurt him, and Duo can take care of himself. It's like…like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle and I haven't found it yet."

Startled by Trowa's words, Quatre too looked over at the kissing couple, and watched silently as Wufei moved to sit next to Heero, only to have the Japanese boy reach back to take his hand.

It was no small thing that Trowa had mentioned it, and so Quatre silently watched the three of them as Duo broke away to sprawl himself across his lovers' laps, Wufei's hands going immediately to those long chestnut bangs.

Not bothering to lift his head, Quatre whispered quietly back, "Rashid told me it isn't bad and doesn't have to hurt; and you even told me the kiss with Ralph was nice. Maybe…maybe it's like Rashid said, you just have to be with someone who loves you." Absently Trowa nodded his head before turning to look at him and offering a truly rare smile, one that reached all the way to his eyes.

"Hey, what are you two whispering about over there?" Duo asked, turning his head, but not bothering to turn the rest of himself in their direction.

Blushing, Quatre shook his head to say nothing, but Trowa shrugged and answered in a flat monotone, "We were betting on how long it would take you to pass out from lack of oxygen."

It was a joke, as simple as that, but as it was the first one Trowa had ever told, it was greeted with a silence so empty Quatre thought everyone could hear his heart racing. For his part, Trowa's face remained void for nearly five seconds, before it took on a perturbed look, "It was a joke."

Heero nodded, Duo smiled, and Wufei chuckled a little, saying, "Sometimes I wonder the same thing myself. I've tried timing it, but I usually get dragged in before I can get an accurate count." That broke the tension, and the five friends smiled or laughed as they got up to continue their journey.

Legs more tired than they should have been, Quatre lagged behind for a while until Heero noticed and slowed the group down to match his pace. Flanked by Duo cracking jokes he barely understood on one side, and Trowa's tall sentinel presence on the other, Quatre felt safe and happy as they passed under florescent colony issued bulbs.

As Heero entered the pass code at one of the security doors, he took a glance at Trowa and then said. "About what happened the other night, about you trying to leave the colony." When Trowa didn't answer, and Quatre's heart began to beat wildly, he continued. "The Teachers are talking about it, Rashid called a meeting this morning with all of them to try and figure out this thing between you and Quatre." He paused again, turning this time to look at them directly. Wufei and Duo stood silently, Duo worrying the end of his long elegant braid. "Do either of you know what this is about? Do you know why you decided not to leave the colony without Quatre, or why you seem to split into two different personalities--"

"Heero, don't." Wufei said quietly, but Heero didn't listen.

"What about you, Quatre? When you spoke that ancient Arabic language, where did you learn it? What did you say to Master Habsaba?" There was no rushing in Heero's words, no urgency to answer, and it was almost as if he were holding a conversation about the weather. But the questions frightened Quatre, had them pulling his arms close to his chest, his hands covering his heart. He shook his head silently, looking immediately down at his feet to avoid their questioning eyes. He didn't know, in fact, he couldn't remember much of anything they were talking about; mostly he understood it from things Duo had mentioned, but he had no memory of the incident.

Heero shifted then, took a half step before a streak of green half filled Quatre's vision, and he looked up to see that Trowa has stepped in front of him at Heero's advance. His tall friend held a passive look on his face, but Quatre could see the tension in his muscles--his body ready to fight. Heero looked startled, his smaller Japanese eyes opening wide at Trowa's actions. The smaller man took a step back towards the door in retreat.

"I don't know, and neither does Quatre." Trowa said, not bothering to look at anyone but Heero. "All we know is that we're both new here, that should be enough." Quatre nodded, trying to reaffirm what Trowa had said, his hand moving to rest in the middle of Trowa's back.

From their left, Duo stepped forward. "It's no sweat Trowa, the three of us have just been wondering if you two had any idea what was going on, that's all. We thought you might know but didn't want the Teachers or the others to know, so Heero thought he'd ask. No biggie, see, no harm no foul. But personally, I'm glad Heero asked the question now instead of on the way back like he said he was going too, this way we can take the carts back and won't have to make that mile walk all the way out here. Geesh, I'm all for exercise, but give me a break!"

And once again, the tension was broken. Quatre's hand left Trowa's back and when it did, the tension fell away, and Trowa took a half step to the side, unsheilding Quatre from the others. Nodding once to Heero, Quatre looked at the basket. "I know I just ate, but if it's much further, maybe we could have a snack. The dates are good."

Wufei smiled at him. "It's good to hear you're hungry, your appetite should be increasing now that you're eating solid foods again." Quatre nodded, and then turned his attention to Duo, as the small bundle of energy came over to sling his arm about Quatre's shoulders.

"It's not much further, little buddy, in fact, we're here--well, basically. We'll make our selection from here and then continue. Ready to see something really amazing and one of a kind?"

The excitement he felt from Duo bled threw their light contact, and Quatre nodded eagerly as Duo smiled down at him. "Good, then without further ado, Heero, if you please, the door."

What was revealed was a control room. Four large monitors took up the entire wall, while a control panel rested before them, hundreds of buttons, lights, and displays flashing and blinking rapidly. On the monitors were four distinctly different pictures. One seemed to be of a snow covered tundra, large mountains in the background. The next was of a wide open, grassy plain, even though Quatre thought he could see trees in the background. A thick forest, like that of a rainforest came next, the rain falling in a soothing rhythm that seemed to fill the small room with tranquility. And finally, the last monitor showed a dry, wind swept desert filled with golden sand and the scorching sun. All four were vivid and vibrant, nearly alive in that way that made him gasp as he grabbed a hold of Trowa's arm and pointed to the last monitor just in time to see a young deer cross the camera's view.

Trowa's eyes were wide when he asked, "What is this place?"

Wufei, beat the others to the punch. "It's the Environmental Control Booth. From here, the normal environment of the colony is maintained. When it was built, it was decided that since the Maguanacs were needed to fight for the people of Islam, they would need a place to practice, and since not all battles happened in space, they would need room to maneuver both troops and Mechas. To do this, they built the central hub of the colony as the living quarters, with the port section as an offshoot from the center. Around the outer circle of the colony however, they built these--four simulated environments for combat training. At least that's what they were originally for. Training exercises are still held here of course, but mostly the environments are used to recreation. The North quadrant houses the snow filled tundra you see; the West is the flat meadows; to the South is the rainforest, and the East quadrant contains the desert. Each quadrant is approximately five miles wide in both directions, and five miles high. Each one also houses indigenous flora and fauna. In all, it's a wonderful place to come and relax, if you don't mind the walk."

"Or the drive. Usually it's a drive, but Heero wanted to be all mysterious." Duo piped up and he laughed and then moved towards the control panel. "We can go to any of the four quadrants from here. This room is built as a revolving inner circle around the quadrants, we pick one and the room takes us there. Thank god too, because I did NOT want to walk another two feet, no matter what kind of reward Heero promised me."

Quatre heard everything they said, but it seemed to settle somewhere in the back of his mind, hidden behind the all consuming wonder. That was snow. That was grass. Those were trees. Sand, that's what sand looked like, really looked like. Everything he'd ever wanted to experience was only a few buttons away and the euphoria that filled his heart brought tears to his eyes. More than ever before, he was finally home.

Heero broke the silence. "Not the Tundra, we're not dressed for snow."

Wufei too said, "Nor the desert, Ral still hasn't fixed the storm component, we'll get sand everywhere and we didn't bring sun block."

Then from slightly behind him, Trowa spoke in a very quite and distant voice. "Not the rainforest, I've spent enough time in rainforests."

Turning, Quatre locked eyes with his friend before returning to his side. He too was quite when he spoke, his eyes drifting to the image of the plains. "My family was very rich, and sometimes I can remember images of playing outside on the grass, underneath the sun, but…but I don't remember it like something I've done, only something I've seen myself do. I'd like to feel the grass under my feet, to smell it, and hear the sound of the wind. I know it makes a sound, I just can't remember what kind." His voice drifted off, but the message stayed the same.

Duo wasted no time setting the control room into motion towards the West quadrant.

The journey was short, about two minutes, and as they traveled in silence, Quatre closed his eyes and felt the subtle shift of speed around them. When the room finally slowed and stopped, Quatre watched the other three turn.

The door to their left, one Quatre hadn't seen coming in, opened slowly to show another room, this one with another door that led out into the West quadrant. He hesitated. Beyond that last door was a sight he couldn't remember seeing, one he hadn't seen for over ten years. He was scared, scared that all the sacrifices of his life leading up to this point would be too much, that it wouldn't be as breathtaking as he wanted it to be. But from behind he felt Trowa's hand rest on the small of his back, and Quatre turned to look at him before drawing a deep breath and moving with the others towards the door.

This second room was much more cramped than the first, and it was a struggle to squeeze all five of them inside. Wufei hit the switch, and the main door closed, leaving them trapped in a nearly claustrophobic situation.

After some shifting, Duo turned around. "You ready?"

Quatre didn't seem to have control of his body, but Trowa nodded and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Duo depressed the button.

The smell of wet soil filled the small room, overpowering for a moment in its freshness. As they moved from the confining room, Quatre remained where he stood, too frightened to move, too afraid it would all just disappear into another one of his half formed dreams.

Absently he saw Duo turn to look at him, Heero and Wufei doing the same. It was then he felt Trowa lean down to rest his chin against his shoulder. For a moment, their hair mingled and Quatre's vision was blurred by the color of burnt auburn bangs. The words fell quietly against his soul. "I know it's beautiful beloved, let's go together." Then two long, strong arms came to wrap him in a tight embrace, and Quatre felt his soul filled with awe inspiring love. Love for Heero, Duo and Wufei who had brought them here; love for the beauty before him, and love for the soul housed within the man behind him.

Trowa, slowly let him go.

And Quatre took three steps into paradise.


End file.
